Face The Music
by HDorothy
Summary: Jack prepares to face the music that he's still in love with Carter. But did he wait too long? S-8 Threads, Jack/Sam
1. Chapter 1

Title: Face The Music

Author: HailDorothy aka HDorothy

Episode:Threads - S8

Spoilers: S1-S8

Premise: Jack prepares to face the music that he's still in love with Carter.

Note to readers:

After watching 'Threads' for the umpteenth time, I pondered what Jack was going through after Sam left to meet Pete, especially if he didn't know what that get-together involved. This one-shot takes place after Jacob/Selmak's death but before Daniel returned to us in his birthday suit.

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_**Part One of Face the Music:**_

**JACK'S MUSIC**

1830 Hours (6:30 P.M.)

SGC: General Jack O'Neill's Office

An hour ago, Jack had given Walter strict orders that unless Anubis was knocking at the gate, Daniel had resurrected or Carter needed him, Jack was not to be disturbed. Slumped back in his leather chair, Jack shut his weary eyes and took refuge in the dark solitude. He'd tried to catnap, but his exhausted mind wouldn't stop replaying the horrific events of this very long day that still wasn't over.

"Go buy flowers, Carter." Yeah, that'd been the first straw to break the camel's back at zero nine hundred hours this morning. Oy vey! Jack hated clichés. Wait, was that a cliché? Whatever! Reality check. Carter really intended to get mm-. . . Just peachy. He couldn't even think, let alone utter the word . . . without wanting to puke. Marri—Aack! And she wasn't doing it with him!

Face it, old man.

_The woman that you love is about to get hitched to another man. _

Life sucks!

Meanwhile on a more galactic proportion of SG-1 to the rescue. Well, the odds weren't in their favor. But then when were they? Basically, the flipping world he knew was going to hell in a hand basket. Yeah, another stupid cliché.

Oh, and Repli-Carter, bless her calculating, metallic heart had almost turned Earth into an _Erecter Set_.

Meanwhile, Daniel was technically, allegedly, but unofficially dead. Jack had yet to set a date for a memorial service. Why this would be memorial service what? Number three for Doctor Jackson? No way. In Jack's alternate universe, Space Monkey was hanging out in some cosmic coffee shop entertaining the Ancients. Well, the man better get his sorry Ancient butt back here, coz Jack was about to enter _the no spin zone_ for good. Man, he must stop watching Fox News 'O'Reilly's Factor.'

_Because the woman that you love is about to get hitched to another . . . _

Oh, and the pinhead of all drama-queens, Anubis actually believes he can rule the galaxy and obliterate Earth. This just never gets old. Think positive, Jack. That's what Carter does, right? Why she's so positive that she's buying flowers!

_Because the woman that you love is about to get hitched . . ._

Oh, another noteworthy update. Jack's only girlfriend in say what, twenty plus years? Cough. Ah, yes, a sex-based relationship with the staggering longevity of an entire twenty-two days dumped him before he dumped her. _Yes, there is a God!_

On the downside, Jacob/Selmak died today. Crap.

_And the woman that you love is about to . . ._

Hey, wait! What if Kerry's right? He could retire and go fishing—alone. Because there was no way in Netu that he was about ruin Carter's looming W-day. And yet, she'd come to his house today alone. It didn't take a rocket scientist—no pun intended, for Jack to realize that she'd wanted to take it out of their room. Why if Kerry had not been there—Yeah, and if horses were wishes, old man.

Then there'd been that heart-stopping moment in the infirmary's observation booth before Jacob died, when Jack swore eight years of longing had at last won out. He'd put his arm around Sam, and then she leaned into him, pressing her beautiful tear-streaked face against his hand. Always. Jack swore that when they'd gazed into each other's eyes, they'd finally unlocked the door to their stupid room. Carter still loved him, right? Or had he read more into a grieving woman's state of mind? Notta. He knew Carter. _She cares a lot more than she should for this old flyboy. Then why is she marrying that-that baby-faced stalker putts?_

Frustrated, Jack shuffled the paperwork he'd ignored the past few weeks; a written recommendation from President Hayes for a promotion and transfer to HomeWorld Security. All Jack had to do was say yes. But he hadn't because it meant he wouldn't see Carter every day.

The transfer involved a few months as George's sidekick, then filling Hammond's boots full time. George had reluctantly accepted the one year stint to head the new post. Now he wanted retirement. Jack didn't blame the long-suffering man. And although, George never said anything, Jack suspected his former CO was trying to do Jack a personal favor.

But Washington, D.C.? Crap! Jack hated politics and all the Dress Blues, kiss ass, social pandering. Flying another desk. _Ah, just put a gun to my head, why doncha._ Not. He'd almost done that before. Very messy and very self-centered. Jack was not the man he used to be. Okay, so he could retire again.

_And the woman that you love is out . . . _

Making funeral arrangements for her beloved father, Jacob. Jack should be with her, but it was no longer his place. Realistically, it never had been. Still, he'd do whatever she asked of him. Always. He'd taken care of everything relating to the Tok'ra and the military service. Despite that he had sent her home, Colonel Carter insisted leaving just long enough to meet with her husband-tae-be, whatshisface. Jack figured the engaged couple were organizing Dad's private wake—buying flowers. Fine. Whatever. With Daniel out of the picture Jack would be the best friend Sam could ever have or want. But before any wedding vows were exchanged—and as soon as propriety permitted, Jack intended to keep the last promise he'd made to a dying man four hours ago.

_Let's face it, O'Neill. Far more frightening than facing Anubis or a corridor of rampaging replicators, facing Samantha Carter scares the every loving crap out of you. But come hell or high water, you will open the door to that damnable room! But what if she no longer wants you? And who would blame her?_

Daniel had even scolded him a few weeks back, "Jack, instead of giving Sam hope that you two can one day be together, you've pushed her so far away that she's actually gotten a life—without you."

Now the woman he loved more than life rapped softly on his office door. "Sir, are you in here?"

"Nope," he glibly answered with a fond memory.

Jack heard her exasperated sigh. Fine. That wasn't the best answer . . . considering.

"Give me a sec, Carter."

"Yes, sir."

_Time to face the music, old man._ He squinted at the conference room's drawn window shades. She was pacing. Whoops! But she still wore civvies. A good thing, right? His heart thudded against his ribs and a voice echoed inside his aching skull. _'Don't be an ass, Jack. She doesn't love that smiley face cop. You really think that all these years I've let you call me 'Dad' was for my health? Hell no! Now promise me that you'll make my little girl happy?'_

"I'll try, Dad," Jack whispered. Switching on his desk lamp he blinked against the invading reality then popped a breath mint. Saying a swift sincere prayer, Jack left his chair and smoothed his wrinkled BDUs that included a quick sniff of his arm pits. Oy! Oh well, she'd have to deal.

The door knob turned. "Sir?" Carter respectfully stayed on the other side of the door.

Jack opened his parched mouth. His CO voice failed. _God help me—us? _The single, most pressing issue in his life stood feet away, and would hopefully let him reopen the door to 'their room.'

Still, a worse fear loomed over Jack's head like a life-sucking black hole.

What if he was too fricking late?

"Enter."

The End . . . or Not!


	2. Chapter 2

I'm a firm believer in listening to the readers. So, since I had not 'planned' to write more to this fic, please be patient. I tend to do a lot of plotting before ink hits paper. In this instance that includes some serious time traveling before Jack and Sam have their 'conversation.' For those who know how I write you're not surprised. And for those just meeting me, please hang it there. The end of 'Face the Music' will be worth the wait. I promise!

No beta so all mistakes are mine.

_**Part two of Face the Music**_

**Before Jack's Music there was . . . SAM'S MUSIC**

1615 hours (4:15 p.m.)

Samantha Carter felt every screw of the lawn bench indent her boney butt. Facing the music and breaking up with Pete had arrived on the worst day of her life. What in the world had she been thinking?

Dad would be proud, that's what. _"It's not too late, kiddo. You can still have everything you want. You can be happy."_

As guilty as she felt gazing into Pete's puppy dog eyes, Sam felt more liberated than she had in a long time. Her last freeing moment had been when General O'Neill promoted her to Lieutenant Colonel. Although, Pete had taken her to a five star restaurant to celebrate, she soon determined that the police detective had no idea what she had endured to acquire those oak leaves. Besides Daniel and Teal'c one other person knew everything that lead up to the blissful event.

Only SG-1 knew that the oak leaves he'd pinned on her shoulders had belonged to him. When General O'Neill had saluted her that afternoon and softly said with a hitch of emotion, "Colonel Samantha Carter," the pride in his voice and sable brown eyes had ignited Sam from the inside out. Jack O'Neill knew Samantha Carter better than anyone else in this universe.

"I knew from the beginning. . ." Pete's fingertips grazed her forearm.

Discreetly withdrawing from Pete's touch, Sam barely listened. She had not shut down out of rudeness. No, General O'Neill was the cause for her preoccupied thoughts. Sam sighed in regret of what she would never have with the one man she loved with her entire being. Something as simple as this: sitting side-by-side on the front lawn of a house—hopefully bursting at its seams with children. Now Sam realized how little she and Pete had in common. Just how wrong they were together. For over a year she'd been doing her best to make him happy, but it'd brought her little if any of the joy that such selfless giving should bring. Not a good sign.

Meanwhile, the little things that she'd so highly cherished had become lost in the shuffle. She hadn't watched a Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire musical since her last team night with her former Colonel—last year. Had it been that long? And when had she last finished off a bowl of popcorn while enjoying '_The Wizard of Oz_?' Oh, yeah, that team night returned in techno color, when during one of the Spring's annual blizzards, she fell asleep on General O'Neill's shoulder. Sam couldn't recall having a better night's sleep other than when they slept off world, sharing the same tent or body warmth by a campfire. That night at his house, they'd slept in each other's arms until 0500 when they abruptly awoke to find the city shutdown from a power outage. Daniel and Teal'c had left a note dated four hours earlier. They had returned to base long before the storm peaked. So, she and the colonel were literally stuck at his place. A nice kind of stuck. She smiled. The Colonel had even commented how unlike the last time they were stranded in the frigid cold they had a working fireplace and plenty of beer and munchies.

They'd proceeded to spend that weekend together all very regulation-like, but it'd been one of the most relaxing times of her life. Jack O'Neill did that to her. He just let her be Sam Carter and she believed he had enjoyed being alone with her.

'_Oh, let's not go there, Sam. What other pastimes haven't you engaged in since dating Pete? How long since you mounted your American Indian for a getaway? Gone jogging with your team members or the General? Went to the planetarium or rifle range? Played chess with anyone else but Cassandra? Gosh, you haven't played chess with Cassie in weeks. Cass dislikes Pete and claims he cheats at chess.The teenager says Pete is nothing like Jack. Isn't that the truth?  
_

_Long before her death, Janet had appointed Sam and Jack to be Cass's guardians. Since the first day she'd entered their lives at the age of eleven, Jack had been a part of the girl's daily world. And as much fun as Jack could be, he was a strict parent. Cassandra wanted and needed his fatherly attention and discipline, especially of late. Despite Jack's heavy workload not a day went by that Jack didn't talk or spend time with Cass. The two loved games. The first one he'd ever taught her, besides hopscotch, and basketball, was chess. Yeah, Jack proved to be an amazing, patient father. Just another thing that you regret, right? _

Sam refocused on the safe subject of chess._  
_

_Other than arm wrestling, it'd been the one of the first games you challenged him to. He clearly hated crossword puzzles. But with his strategic skills, Jack O'Neill was a worthy opponent on the chess field. Yep, you loved to chase the General's horses around his board . . . Oh, man, almost everything you like involves General O'Neill. The day after you showed him your engagement ring, he put away the chessboard that used to sit on his office credenza. The game we'd never finished had ended. _

Sam forced her thoughts to the others she considered family. Most certainly, Teal'c and Daniel had long written her off of their only 'sister' list. Not like they had stood in line to shake Pete's hand, especially after the stakeout fiasco at Daniel's house. Come to think of it, Jack had been more civil than anyone. As polite and supportive as they were, neither man approved of Pete being her future husband.

When was the last time SG-1 shared conversation and a beer? Oh yes, the day General Hammond got reassigned, the day before Jack O'Neill went Ancient. Man, she missed her friends, missed _him_.

". . . I wish I could believe this had something to do with your father. . ."

Pete kept talking, had been for the last twenty minutes. Trying to factor out what he'd done wrong and how he could fix it--them. She assured Pete that her breaking off their romance was her problem not his, and she was extremely sorry that it'd taken her this long to realize she wasn't in love with him, Okay, she'd not told him that verbatim. How do you tell someone you've been with for a year that you deeply care for, but are not '_in love'_ with him?

Instead, she explained how he deserved someone better, someone who appreciated his generous nature. When he answered she tried to listen. And all the while, the strong lean arms of the officer and gentleman who had comforted her before and after Dad died, remained invisibly nestled around Sam like an old familiar blanket. Even now she could smell Jack's distinct masculine scent. There really was no place like home. Sam glanced back at the house Pete had purchased. This would never be Kansas.

Because of a miscalculated hallucination and the desire for a normal life she had missed the forest for the trees. She'd almost given up '_her life_' for someone with whom she wasn't passionately, giggly, and head-over-heels in love with. Pete was nice, safe and not even close to dangling from the lunatic fringe. Sam wanted, needed the lunatic fringe, at least a certain six-foot-two silver-haired fox by the name of O'Neill with two L's. She wanted and loved an irreverent, audacious, self-effacing, scarred flyboy with blown knees and the sexiest dimples she had ever laid eyes upon. She wanted what she couldn't have.

" . . . All I can say is I hope you get what you want."

_Me too. _"That's it?" Sam snapped as his words twisted her heart.

Pete snapped back, something about getting on his knees and begging. Heck no! He then said goodbye and stalked off, pausing to rip the sold sticker off of the realtor's sign.

As she watched him leave, Sam didn't expect Pete to show for Dad's funeral, but if he did, she would be civil, gracious even. She hoped Pete did likewise. Sam stayed seated. Part of her wanted to make certain Pete didn't return or follow her. When a cool breeze tousled her hair, the sun's retreat reminded her of how long she'd been here. She must get back to the SGC. Hopefully Teal'c and Bra'tac had returned safely, and Anubis wasn't within seconds of ruling the galaxy.

Never looking back Sam drove to the mountain. Two text messages beeped on her cell phone. One was Mark confirming his next morning's flight. Sam hated that she had lied about the cause of their father's death. The military death certificate would list heart failure, and that was partially true. It'd only been a few years since Mark and Dad put aside their differences. Mark would always have regrets. Thanks to Selmak, Sam had few except missing Dad.

The second message heated Sam's face and neck. '_Samantha, hope you are dealing. I'm here if you need anything, Jack.' _

Wait! He'd signed off, Jack. Not O'Neill, but Jack and—he had addressed her as _Samantha_.

Slowly but surely, the first smile in hours crept across Sam's tensed features, then vanished.

If only.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: Just to refresh your memories. I am backtracking (back story) before the events of Chapter 1. Part 3 coincides with Sam's Part 2. One thing I love about fan fiction, almost anything goes! Now let's see what Jack's up too, aye? _

**Part 3 of Face the Music**

**SGC: Gate Room**

"And she's walking." Jack executed a shooing gesture behind the Tok'ra ambassador's bony behind. Jack knew Walter and the rest of the Control Room staff were smirking at his unprofessional conduct. Political protocol aside, everyone was relieved to see the last of the bigheaded Tok'ra depart his turf. Bad enough, they'd return for Jacob's funeral.

Jack shifted his mindset toward a much needed nap and the final paperwork for Jacob's memorial service. As if to test Jack's threadbare tolerance the Tok'ra ambassador glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Hands jammed into his front pant pockets, Jack conjured up another insincere, bogus salutation and tossed in a goodbye nod.

The regal woman turned about-face.

_Crap._

She shot out her left arm, flipped her palm face-up and bent all fingers except her middle one. Did he mention she then wiggled that notorious index finger? _Huh?_ Based on past experience Jack feared that he misread the gesture and remained at ease. No doubt about it, the Tok'ra snakes' ranked high on the scale of weirdoes.

The ambassador's smile folded. She repeated her left arm and hand signal. Jack focused on the position of her third finger. If one looked at it just right. . . _Hey, same to you, lady._ Jack raised his left arm and waved an all American goodbye. She'd no idea how it sucked him dry to not flip her off.

The alien ceased brandishing her left arm and donned an expression of confusion that matched Jack's. Perhaps it was safer to keep his hands in his pockets. "Walter," he asked into his ear com transmitter, "Um, why hasn't '_it_' flushed down the tube?"

"I don't know, sir," the Chief Master Sergeant responded through Jack's earpiece.

"And what's with those odd hand signals?"

"Don't know, General. Never saw them before, nor has the staff."

"Well, I got nothing." Jack winced before flashing the Tok'ra a tense smirk. Times like this, he wished Daniel was here.

As if on cue, the linguist materialized beside Jack dressed in a white woolen sweater, casual slacks and of course, bare feet and glassless. "Hey."

"Hey." Jack didn't bother with eye contact. "I appreciate that you're not naked this time."

"So, not surprised to see me, huh?"

"Nope." Jack cocked his head, pondering the Tok'ra's peculiar behavior. "Why just this morning I was telling Carter how, '_Next thing ya know he'll come waltzin' through that door . . .waltzin.''_ Yep, that's what I said." Jack peered harder at the alien. Her repetitive gesticulations as it were, became maddening. Along with the _Hi Hitler_ salute and wrist action she kept her index finger in an all too familiar erect poise.

_Oy, she's telling me to 'F' off!_ _What would George do?_ Jack raised his left arm and repeated his previous wave still minus the middle finger thingy. Being diplomatic wasn't Jack's idea of fun.

Another shocked gasp erupted from the snake's mouth. _Ack!_

"Um, Jack, whatcha doing?" Daniel asked with the annoyed tone of a babysitter.

"Bidding fare-thee-well to the last tribute-to-Jacob and Selmak ass kisser, who's about to gate to numerous addresses before reaching her secret local—that she and her two-timing '_better than thou_,' he hung quotes in the air, "snakeheads refuse to share. And you?"

"Oh, just checking in."

"Ah."

A beat followed. Jack assumed Daniel was percolating.

"Sorry to hear about Jacob and Selmak. How's Sam doing?"

Jack opened his mouth then snapped it shut. He turned and flapped his arms through the solid looking, invisible Daniel. "Geez Louise!"

"General O'Neill?" Walter addressed him through the public speaker system, "Are you all right?"

"Just peachy, Walter, and axe-nay the speaker," he said into his com.

"Yes, sir. Sorry."

For security reasons, Jack had ordered the staff to communicate through their com units whenever the Tok'ra or any questionable aliens graced the SGC Gate Room. Further peeved, Jack tugged the hem of his BDU jacket, refaced the undulating blue horizon and whispered to Daniel. "So are ya cloud surfing or a delusion of my pooped fron?"

"Both."

"Neat. Then, you're back on the clock." Jack tapped his wristwatch.

"I am?"

"You are." He rolled a shoulder in the direction of the ambassador. "So why hasn't she left and what's she pissed about?"

"You want the good or bad news first?"

"Daniel." Jack rubbed his aching forehead. "None of the other Tok'ra went bonkers on me."

"Because they weren't of equal or higher rank than you are, Jack. On the overall, the ambassador's irked because from one bureaucrat to another, you haven't given her permission to leave."

"Excuse me?"

"Guess you missed my memo."

"Which one?"

Daniel groaned. "That the Tok'ra recently adapted and tweaked some of our customs, especially between higher ranking officials."

"Ah, and you'd know this how?"

"Jacob told me."

"But neither one of you informed the base CO." Jack whined and waved. He so wanted to give someone the finger.

"Whoops." Daniel shoved Jack's arm down to his side.

"Wha-at?" Jack took a step back as the pinched-faced slither-head stomped down the ramp toward him.

"You further insulted her and are about to get an earful."

"Fercry'noutloud, all I did was wave."

"With your right arm."

"And that's wrong how?"

"Because our version of a right handed wave is like giving the Tok'ra the finger."

"Is not."

"Is now." Daniel donned his adamant _'I am right' _look.

"Well, fix it." Jack indicated the advancing mad serpent.

"No can do. I'm not really here, remember?" Daniel imitated the Tok'ra gesture then elbowed Jack.

"Ow!" Jack hugged his assaulted ribs.

"Smile and wave with your left hand, extend your middle finger and waggle it." Daniel hissed through a puckered smile.

"Should I click my heels?"Jack mocked.

"No—just do this."

Jack glanced at Daniel's insane antics. "No. I'll look like an ass."

"We'll debate that later."

Jack pulled a face. "Why I'd look like an ass?"

"Jack, she won't leave until you acknowledge her departure with their official Tok'ra welcome and farewell signal."

"So I can ah . . . give the Tok'ra the_ finger_?" How many times had he made that insult behind their snarky backs? How many times had Jacob Carter reprimanded his unprofessional behavior? A mischievous grin split his face.

"Yes, Jack." Daniel intruded Jack's musing. "You can."

"Sweet." Jack saluted with his left arm Hitler style, turned his palm face up, swirled his wrist and squirmed his third finger. Jack felt liberated. "So who came up with this farcical farewell?"

"Jacob." Daniel laughed. "He told the Tok'ra that the salute is of historical significance to Earth and emphasizing the index finger a gesture of respect."

Tears of laughter stung Jack's eyes. _Bless you, Jacob!_ Jacob Carter's last hurrah on the Tok'ra and no doubt, the Tok'ra-betrayed Selmak had been Jacob's cheerleader.

About to step off the ramp the alien halted, glanced at the pokerfaced armed Marines, and then at a grinning General O'Neill who now saluted with both arms and extended third fingers.

"Um, Jack, don't push it."

"Give me some credit, hey. Me thinks that she's buying it hook, line, and sinker." Sure enough, the Tok'ra smiled, mimicked his two-handed gesture then departed via the blue toilet bowl.

As the Iris closed, Jack said to Daniel in a sarcastic tenor. "Goodie, now I get to explain this new gesture to President Hayes and the Oversight Committee."

"I'd probably edit the report."

"Ya think?" Jack rolled his eyes. "And for your information, Daniel, I do-did read your memos. You just never mailed me the newest Tok'ra protocol."

"Did too." Daniel kept pace with Jack's longer strides as he exited the Gate Room.

"Did not." Jack exclaimed staring into the face of a bewildered enlisted man.

"Did not do what, General O'Neill, sir?"

Oy! Jack looked around for Daniel. _That chicken-shit!_ "Um, at ease, son."

"Yes, sir." The airman presented a concerned expression. "You have my sincere condolences regarding the loss of General Carter. It was my honor to serve with him and Colonel Carter on the Alpha site last year."

"You survived the blast," Jack glanced at the man's I.D. patch, "Airman Rickner?"

"Yes, sir, although there are times I wish that I hadn't." His blue eyes teared-up.

Jack knew that feeling all too well. He patted the younger's shoulders and smiled reassurance. "And I'm glad you did, Rickner."

"Thank you, sir!" He saluted with emotion.

Jack returned the starched salute then took the stairs to his office, mumbling obscenities at Daniel. Either his best friend was an Ancient again or Jack was hallucinating—again. He hoped it wasn't the latter. Jack warily opened his office door and glanced inside. All clear. _No one but me, myself and I. Cool beans._

Shutting the door, he dropped into his chair and pondered Sam's whereabouts. How was she doing? Was Peppy la Puck holding her, comforting her, kissing. . ? _Stop it! It's so not your business, old man. Hey, text her and—._

"Good idea, Jack. But be personal. Let her know how much you—"

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

"Shut up!"

_To be continued. . .Promise!_

_**Note to my devoted readers: Thanks for hanging tight. I appreciate your heartening comments. More to follow, I promise. **_

_**ONE MORE THING: For those who have given up on me completing 'Never Say Never,' please, please know I am hot on finishing the story. It's important for me to know what's going down in S5 of Atlantis regarding Sam, but I am working on the completion of the novella. And when you do read it, I hope you'll feel it was well worth the very long wait.  
**_

_**Godspeed,**_

_**HailDorthy aka Linda **_


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Readers:

I appreciate everyone's patience and ongoing generous reviews. Whether positive or critical, feedback motivates me to keep writing. This scene is probably bit of a jump, but my hopeful projection that Sam and Jack loved each other from their first meeting. I admit to taking author liberties in order to link our favorite couple's personal lives in every way possible. I make no excuses. I love Jack and Sam!

Enjoy!

Part 4: Face the Music - Sam - Again

SGC**:**

After checking with Walter in the Control Room then accepting condolences from the staff, Sam mounted the steel staircase to General O'Neill office. Her weary footfalls echoed against the stark plaster walls. Although officially off-duty, halfway up, she decided to change into her blue BDU's.

Dad's voice echoed back to her. _"Stop procrastinating, kiddo, delaying what needs to be acknowledged, at least from your end. You might be surprised at Jack's response." _

"Like this afternoon," Sam mumbled. "Oh, yeah, I was surprised all right." She recalled the younger, beautiful agent Johnson waltzing out of Jack's patio door like she lived there. Maybe she did. Dear God, no!

"_You can do this, Sammy," Jacob Carter reassured. _

"I'd rather blow up a sun." Her imaginary exchange with him ended. "Yeah, didn't think you'd argue that one." Sam steered her sandaled feet onto the next step, then the next. Stress induced exhaustion permeated her aching joints and muscles. Her stomach hurt. Was it hunger or acid reflux? What was the last thing she'd eaten and when? Oh, yes, that greasy bean burrito that General O'Neill brought to her quarters while the Tok'ra said farewell to Dad and Selmak.

Bad choice—that burrito. It'd been after supper and there'd been 'slim pickings' from the Officers Mess as the General presented his humble sincere offering. Long as she could remember he always brought her food, especially when something bad went down. Hey, he'd even retrieved the last dish of blue Jell-O. However, once a few mouthfuls of the spicy burrito slammed her gut, her appetite nosedived and with good reason. Today, she'd lost her father, and possibly the one man to make her truly happy.

Halting on the staircase landing, Sam faced the softly illuminated conference room and drawn shades of her commander's office. The rumble from her abdomen further broadcast the state of her shattered nerves. Splitting with Pete had been tense, while facing the General, knowing he was serious with Kerry Johnson didn't do Sam any favors. While she had sat in Jack's driveway over the noon hour—practicing a 'let's take it out of our room, sir,' speech, she'd almost lost breakfast. Then after she'd gotten the call about her father, she did. Thankfully, only God and the next occupant of the SGC's level 29 unisex head (bathroom) knew. Now her bellyache returned like a tidal wave.

So had her flatulence or as General O'Neill would simply state, "Fire in the hole, I've gotta fart!"

General O'Neill was the only person she'd ever known who could fart on cue. Just ask the Goa'uld. Daniel called Jack's rear attacks, "Stink Bombs." And Teal'c just saluted his right brow, sniffed and said, "Indeed."

Much to General Hammond's professional chagrin, Jack's expertise had become an intergalactic legend. But Sam suspected that General Hammond had taken manly pride in his 2IC's undignified talent. Men!

Seven years of serving side-by-side had nurtured a warped sense familiarity with her CO. They were ate ease exercising bodily functions in one another's presence. Hard not to, when one has to urinate and the outhouse was a tree or bush. Then again, Sam had similar comfort levels with Teal'c and Daniel. They were after all, family. Yet certain things altered quickly between her and the then Colonel O'Neill. During one of their first missions, P3X-595, the team observed an alien marriage festival. Sam recalled how the eager Doctor Jackson chose to sit beside the clan's chieftain, asking questions and taking notes, while Teal'c made a point to sit alone. However, everyone observed the culture's rule to be barefoot during the meal.

The main delicacy had been stomach churning. Jack insisted they not insult their guests. Then without so much as a belched warning, he emptied his meal into Sam's lap. Sam had been shocked. The colonel mortified, especially when the chieftain and his companions cheered.

Colonel O'Neill's attempt to clean Sam made matters worse when he accidentally touched particular none-frat parts of her anatomy. Sam did her best to not react, including when the chieftain ordered Jack to cleanse her soiled feet. She felt a bit vindicated watching him on his knees, rinsing, and then drying her bare size eights.

When he missed a spot, Sam wiggled her toes.

"Easy, Captain," Jack groused. "Remember, what goes around comes around."

"Yes sir." Ten minutes later, without any warning, she returned the favor, but managed to just mess his long feet, crooked toes and all.

Sam instinctively dropped onto her knees and rinsed her vomit off his feet with the juice beverage from the table. Yeah, they bonded that day. Jack yanked her upright and ordered her to, "Stop that!"

A minute later, she was escorted by the tribe's single women to put on their version of a dress, until her scrubbed BDUs dried. Trying to placate the tribal chieftain, Jack donned a glazed respectable smirk whenever he glanced at Sam's bare legs, back, and the plunging cleavage. After that embarrassing episode Sam packed double sets of BDUs. Of course, extra uniforms didn't matter on their next mission when they encountered the despicable Turghan.

Things went from bad to worse on P3X-595. Sam innocently drank the offered beverage that only the unwed women could consume. Feeling rather hot and amorous, she started dancing and stripping only to awaken in Jack's tent, buck-naked. Even now, Sam turned the hue of a radish.

After she returned home, Sam had terrible migraines and distorted dreams of being in the Colonel's arms, kissing him, and much more. He swore nothing like that ever took place. That he and Daniel had deposited her in his tent alone where she'd slept alone. One problem, Sam had a powerful need to be near her new commander and not in a platonic way. Sam soon found herself locked in her quarters with SF guards at her door.

Dozens of tests later, Doctor Fraiser couldn't find anything to attribute to Sam's odd behavior. Daniel suspected the reason, but wouldn't confirm his suspicions until he and Teal'c gated back to P3X-595 with SG-2 to review the inhabitants' beliefs. They returned with an herbal potion that the tribe's medicine doctor assured would cure Sam's headaches and her overt attraction to the Colonel.

It worked. The headaches vanished as did any sexual urges for Jack O'Neill beyond those she'd initially acquired since their first SGC briefing, feelings she could easily conceal. Yeah, most of that mission report got edited to death by Jack and well, SG-1 never returned to the odd planet where bonded couples didn't wear clothes after sunset. Jack reassured Sam that nothing inappropriate happened between them, but he never held her gaze long enough to determine if he was lying just to save her dignity. It took awhile after that mission before either outright flirted with the other.

A briefing followed between General Hammond, the colonel, Daniel and Teal'c. Sam was not invited or briefed. Other than the mission where she fought Turghan, Daniel never teased her about the striptease incident, nor did the colonel. Teal'c acted as if he'd something to share with her, but would then decline.

A green-horned captain, Sam hadn't wanted to know what went down on P3X-595 or during Hammond's meeting. What had mattered was that her 'conduct unbecoming an officer' was written off as 'alien influenced' and no black checks went on her military record. The colonel knew what that had meant to her then. Still did. But over the last few years she'd experienced flashes of that night again with the Colonel. With eight years of expanded wisdom, maturity and interpersonal skills, Sam needed to know what really went down. Perhaps after this talk?

Yeah, all in all, she was about to blow General O'Neill's less than complex mind. Sam popped another chewable antacid and grimaced. Her feet made it as far as the conference table where she hesitated then settled in her assigned chair next to the General's right.

"You're my right hand man err . . .um. . . woman . . . Second in command, Carter," he'd state with what some female officers considered irreverence. Not really. Jack was Jack. Black and white. He had the utmost respect for all females especially those in the military. Above all, he trusted Sam's abilities to execute a mission and never leave anyone behind. Secretly, Sam loved and respected his politically incorrect lip.

Another burning rumble caused her to burp.

"_Suck it up, Carter," O'Neill scolded inside her cranium. _

"_Easy for you to say, sir." _

"_Hey, I'm the king of easy." He chuckled with a dimpled smirk. _

"_Yeah, Kerry Johnson should know." _

"_What?" His scarred brow shot into his silver hairline. _

_Sam watched the O'Neill 'doh' expression cloud his rugged face. The identical expression he'd donned when she had arrived at his house earlier today. _

"_What brings you to this neck of the woods on such a fine day in my backyard?" _

_Sam knew right then and there something was wrong in Oz. When it came to interpersonal issues Jack acted dense, but there was no cosmic debris on his bookshelf. _

"_Ah. That." He mouth flat-lined._

"_Ya think?" _

Sam concentrated on his office's slotted window shades. Dark. Was head alone with Kerry Johnson? Sam waited to hear the outer door open then close. No. The General had gone out of his way to keep his affair with Kerry low key. But now that the cat was out of the bag . . . Sam belched. Walter said that only SG-1 was allowed to disturb General O'Neill. _It's been a grueling week. The poor man deserves downtime. Maybe I should wait on this? Don't be a chicken shit._ _If this doesn't work, I'll transfer to Area 51 and take personal leave A.S.A.P. _

Jealousy needled her. Knowing the man she loved was with someone else, she could no longer face him daily. Holy Hannah, was this how he'd felt when he learned about her and Pete? She hoped not. Not a day passed she hadn't considered Jack's heart. Still, General O'Neill was the king of charades. There'd been a time when she could almost read his mind, especially regarding them. No more. But if he were emotionally wounded why remain at Stargate Command? Oh, yeah, duty and honor before personal happiness. That'd become their standing motto for seven plus years. Had that mindset hardened him? She hoped not.

Another conversation from their past surfaced.

_**Almost four years prior: **_

A few days after the Zatarc test they took it out of their room. How that happened was an amusing story Sam once thought to tell their children. Now the probability that would ever happen seemed astronomical. Anyways, they had met at a café ninety plus miles from the Springs.

Sam glanced around the outdated 1960ish café and its patrons. Mostly locals, truckers, and a few adventuresome tourists braved this off-the-beaten path through the Rocky Mountains. She and Jack strategically chose one booth. With his back to the wall Jack faced the front doors, while Sam could observe anyone entering or exiting through the kitchen and restrooms.

Occasionally, Jack's legs brushed hers. She liked that. They were on their fourth coffee refill. Sam needed to pee but feared that if she did, Jack might bolt for home. Even meeting in a public place felt taboo.

Their clandestine rendezvous included first name basis. Jack's idea. Sam almost expected cake. Instead, he ordered one of her favorite pastries, frosted cinnamon rolls. Despite a few awkward moments, they eased into a comfortable exchange about feelings and said everything but the _L_ word. There was no doubt by the passion in Jack's sable eyes that if either admitted the deeper emotion they'd be on their way to Las Vegas. Being alone, strengthened the temptation for Sam to leave the Air Force. Were it not for the Zatarc incident and Martouf's death, Sam would have thrown herself into Jack's arms and never left. That so wasn't going to happen.

Now, she didn't know which one of them was tenser. Again, it was their circumstances not the company that initiated the strain. Being with the colonel felt like wearing one's favorite slippers. A perfect fit. Lounging across from her with his bed-headed hair, wearing a royal-blue scoop-necked pullover and faded jeans, Jack O'Neill looked like the main entrée. Female patrons gave him notice. Not that Jack noticed. He'd no idea that he was major eye-candy. Still, it didn't stop his appreciative gaze from lingering on three coed-aged women as they sashayed out to their car.

"Hot," he silently mouthed.

"What?" Sam made him accountable, while grinning at his healthy libido.

"What?" Jack artlessly engaged her eye roll.

"Men." She huffed and shoved a strand of hair behind her left ear.

"Women." His sensual gaze riveted on her finger and hair action.

Sam's hands retreated to her lap. Oh, brother!

His brown gaze inadvertently settled on her breasts. "Nice twins," he winked.

"Excuse me?" Her head shot up.

"Did I say that?" He flinched. "Sorry! Really!"

"Are not." She tried to sound flippant and failed. At least, he'd not called them _a nice rack_. Twins? Um, she sort of liked that personal reference. After all, they did match.

"You're right, Sam. And I apologize, that won't happen again." He was so damn sincere.

"No. I um. Look if that was a flirtatious compliment. . .Well, it was, wasn't it?"

"Geez, Carter, yeah, that was a '_huge_' compliment. Not that they're too huge. . ."

"Then you like smaller ones?" Had she just whined?

"Actually no. I adore," He referenced them. "Your twins more than anyone else's." He ran a finger along his neckline.

Sam blushed.

Dead silence.

"Ah, hell, just zat me." Jack sniffed and stared up at the rain-stained ceiling.

She didn't know who was drowning faster here. "Wow, this is awkward."

"Yeah, getting there." Was he counting ceiling tiles?

Sam swallowed hard. Wait, wasn't this what they wanted? To find out how they related on a personal level? _Jack O'Neill just outright flirted with you, girl!_ So let the fake date begin.

"Wolves," she baited.

He suspiciously glanced over, then cocked a dimple. Their playful word game afoot.

"Mate for life," he said.

"That's three words."

"Yeah, and it's the answer to the wolf clue of your latest crossword puzzle."

"You don't do puzzles, sir, um, Jack."

"I don't?" He delivered his open mouthed befuddled look. "But wolves mate for life, right?"

When their eyes held Sam interpreted his cryptic message. "Oh, umm, yes, pending there's no prior—" She sipped her coffee.

"Prior what?"

Sam tilted her head. Man, he was serious. "Ah, you know, stuff." She sounded like an idiot.

"Well, pending no prior _stuff_, that's good." He scooped up a forkful of pastry and chewed with a contemplative look, "I mean the life mate thingy," he whirled his fork at her unfinished food. "R'ya going to eat that?"

Before she could answer, Jack snatched up her plate and polished it off. How could he eat at a time like this? Why was he suddenly mister cool and she a basket case? Oh, for crying out loud! Sam wanted to tell him straight up, not that she just cared a lot more than she should, but—

"I know." He swiped crumbs off his lips with a paper napkin. Sam envied the napkin.

"Am I that transparent?" she snorted, cradling her coffee cup.

"Nah. But we," his hands danced between them, "don't need words, Samantha, never have."

"Well, you maybe don't. Whoops!" Too late.

Jack O'Neill's rarely glimpsed vulnerable side shutdown. Great! They'd been making huge progress until her logical heart stomped all over his illogical heart.

"Look, Carter," he ground out.

Sam's shoulders slumped at his formal address.

"Talkin' feeling has never been my strong suit and I'm sorry. I just get confused. . ." He avoided her hope directed gaze, and traced a path along the faded wallboard. Her ass-kicking CO looked like a lost child. Sometimes he was.

"No." She captured his nervous digits. "I apologize. You're right. You know that I know and that's what counts, right?"

Jack's sable eyes brightening as he looked to where their fingers intertwined. "And I know that—" He reluctantly let go, but tipped that calloused palm her way.

"You know." Yeah, the L word didn't need to be spoken. They knew.

Warm smiles and breaths were shared. Even as they savored their revelation, the ruggedly handsome man distracted Sam beyond all logic. His sleeves were jammed up his taut sun-kissed forearms and his sport-shades dangled from a black neck strap with a Hockey logo. The scoop-necked sweater provided a glimpse of his salt and peppered chest hair. Sam swallowed. A familiar, delicious slow burn traveled through her lower abdomen.

Was it hot in here? Did he feel the heat too?

She watched Jack shift on the hard wooden booth. Drinking his coffee, his free hand dipped into his lap then quickly returned to rest on the table's top. Color rushed Sam's neck and earlobes. He'd adjusted himself. Oh, brother! What had yet to be verbalized these past four years, had been confirmed. They desired an intimate relationship that couldn't happen anytime soon, and the most sensitive issue had yet to be directly addressed—sex.

Jack had flirtatiously tap-danced around the matter in his clumsy, irreverent manner and fallen on his face. Once more, he made that out of water goldfish expression. "Sam we need to um talk about ya know. . ."

And she needed to rescue the guy before his repetitive face-scrub removed that adorable stubble. Unlike the accepted statuesque, Sam didn't sleep around. Other than a few make-out sessions with guys in high school and college, Jonas Hanson, had been her first and only lover. Her parents' passionate love affair and Judeo-Christian beliefs still influenced her. Sam believed in commitment and fidelity, in the sanctity of marriage, and that with dedicated hard work, happily ever after could happen. Besides, she loathed playing the field, and it hadn't paid to start a relationship with someone who could never know the truth about her occupation.

For four years her heart-stopping fantasies about a certain silver-haired colonel had kept her sexually sated, something she now blushingly shared. When high color stained his rugged features Sam wasn't sure her confession was a positive move. Jack leaned back, jaw unhinged, gawking just like when he'd found her naked on that metal examine table in Hathor's bogus SGC, with a flimsy thermo sheet between them.

Sam felt the undeniable urge to babble. "Jack, I understand that you have certain needs and desires . . ."

"Wait." His tenor bottomed out.

"No. Let me finish. I don't expect a virile man like you to be a monk. And we've agree that until we're together, what happens on downtime is neither one's business." Sam coughed and concentrated folding her napkin.

"Virile monk you say?" Effusiveness lilted his tenor.

Sam held his naughty smirk. "I'm serious."

"Me too," he said for her ears alone. "How come it's fine for you to remain virgin-like while we wait, but not me? Is this some new women's lib thingy?"

"Of course not. I just assumed—"

"Nah-uh!" He waved his pointer. "True." He puffed out, "that I have a virile libido. However, I have one techno-color imagination, several unclassified photos of a certain Major, and two capable hands." He winked suggestively.

"Wow!" She gulped. "Then you're OK with not . . ." She gestured.

"I'd be lying if I said yes. Not that I want to do the horizontal Rumba with anyone else, mind ya. Hey, if you can wait for the grand finale, so can this guy. Sam, I've always been a one-woman man and you're that woman."

"Wow!" Tears steamed her vision. Sam looked everywhere but at him.

"And I can't believe I've reduced Doctor Samantha Carter to a one syllable word." He snickered.

Laughter tugged her heart. "Permission to slug my superior officer, sir." She threw a fake punch.

"Permission granted, but no biting. Now look at me, Samantha."

Gradually, she engaged his tender understanding gaze. Sam no longer saw her CO. Not a hint of anything military in Jack O'Neill's unlocked expression. He was a man talking intimately to a woman, to her.

"Sam, we won't have this conversation for a very long time but I will never ask you to give up your career."

"Nor I yours, Jack."

"On the other hand, I've no qualms leaving the Air Force again."

Sam balked.

"Surprised, huh?" His smile ironed out.

"Wow. Yes. No. I just can't imagine anyone else leading SG-1, watching my six."

"So that's what this about?" He winced. "Who's watching whose ass?"

"No. Certainly not." She recovered with a counterfeit laugh. Who was she fooling? Beyond the Stargate, she'd be lost without Jack O'Neill's confident presence. He knew she wasn't ready for a command change. Worse, was she even ready for a 'them?' That's why she'd insisted they leave it in the room. It'd never been just about Jack. I'd been and still was about her ambition. Man, how could he love someone like her?

"Hey. If I left, and I emphasis the '_if_' you'd be fine, Carter." Jack invaded her tortured thoughts with too much clarity.

"Ya think?" She grimaced.

"I do."

"I'm sorry." She struggled to express what hadn't been said.

"Don't be." His firm look silenced her. "And enough with the 'I'm sorry' already."

"OK."

"Sam, you're still so young. You've got the entire flipping universe to explore. While I don't give a rat's ass if I ever get flushed down that blue toilet bowel--bowl again."

Sam's eyes rounded at his forthrightness. "But I thought—."

"Hey, long as there's a snake-head to be slain, I'll defend mother Earth." He blew out through his mouth then engaged her evasive gaze. "But you just say the _word_ and I'm Minnesota-homebound for sky-blue waters and alot'o fishing."

Sam opened her mouth. Her voice failed.

"Yep, you just say the word. . ." He hopefully waggled his brows.

Sam glanced away.

Jack coughed and leaned back in his seat. "Well then, maybe it's not me that's the problem here. Let's face it, I'm not that complex."

"But I am?"

"And I wouldn't have you any other way, Sam. I adore your brains, how you talk, walk, and fire an P-90. I adore . . . "

"Jack, please stop!"

Clamping his mouth shut, he looked into her eyes then nodded with mute acceptance. In four years she'd never heard the man talk this much. She should be thrilled. Instead she was scared shitless. She didn't deserve Jack O'Neill. Tension ensued. The waitress collected the soiled plates and refreshed their coffee. Sam's negative response to Jack's early retirement offer had disappointed him. But being Jack O'Neill he got right back into the game, and his short to the point self.

"Samantha, no matter what goes down between us professionally I'm not with anyone else, and I will always be here for you. I'm a safe bet."

"Thanks." She smiled with open adoration, something that would be hard not to do from here on out. But his statement that she had issues with pro-actively hastening their wannabe-lovers relationship hounded her. Before she could convince him otherwise, he redirected.

"Sam?" He toyed with the salt and pepper shakers and she considered how the two spices represented her and the man she loved. "I need ya to know something else."

She smiled expectantly.

"General Hammond ordered me to um, meet with you."

Sam's heart plunged into her belly. "Then, this wasn't an accident?" Angry, her pale hands clenched tight. She so wanted to hit something.

"Nope. I did follow you, but!" He held up a hand as her eyes narrowed dangerously. "He doesn't know we're here together. In fact, he doesn't want to know where, when and if it ever happens. He's been aware of our mutual admiration society for years, but the Zatarcy thing forced him to address the issue with me. Let's just say, he doesn't want SG-1 disbanded. He expects us to behave above reproach and keep our personal interaction to a minimum."

"Maybe I should transfer." Sam suggested. That would provide the opportunity to be together.

"Heck no!" Jack's voice pitched. "I mean please don't?" he asked softer.

Sam glanced about them, relieved they had yet to draw attention.

"Sam, as long as we put our team and assignments first, Hammond'll turn a blind eye and ear. But if news ever gets out, he'll be forced to take action. Understood?"

She mutely gave a head bob.

"The General cares about us, Sam. And under any other circumstances he'd buy a cake."

An intrepid smile softened her irritation. "He is a good CO."

"The best, and that's why we'll never do anything to undermine his command."

Sam agreed.

"And if the NID ever gets wind, I will retire before there's a smelly gust in your direction."

"No?" Sam felt as she was the fault for everything.

"Hey, the bottom line's this. I'm getting too old for all this roughhousing crap. But I promise to wait out this flipping star wars with the Goa'uld." He flicked an imaginary alien out of his tepid coffee.

"Deal." Relief sluiced through Sam. He knew her need to continue the fight and remain a part of SG-1, most of all, that he be in command of their flagship team.

"Although," he waved his hand with that an intimate look that made her heart trip. "I've given '_us_' serious thought, Sam."

She snorted.

"Hey, I can be serious." He frowned.

"I'm teasing."

"Ah. Oh. Gotcha." He smiled before his mouth ironed out. "So if one of us, and I don't mean me coz, I'm too set in my ways," he cleared his throat. "While you, Samantha, are young, beautiful, and far smarter than any human, snakes or bugs. You deserve to be happy with someone who's—" He shut his eyes and rubbed the tension crease between his brows.

"You, Jack," she said with tender reassurance.

His eyes popped open with his kissable mouth as he thumped his chest.

"Yes," she brushed bangs from her eyes. "You."

"Ah!" He glanced around with his shocker expression. "Me . . . ya say?" His tone held the self-effacing tone she adored.

"Positive. I can only be happy with you. I want Colonel Jonathan J. O'Neill, and I have since we met. Honestly, Jack, I'd already fallen for you when I read your report from the first Abydos mission."

"Well there ya go." His dimples burrowed beside his lean mouth and they grinned abashedly. That was until Jack shattered the spell.

"So, Carter, just to cover our collective asses," he cleared his voice, "Um, let's imagine that one of us meets a new significant 'other,'" he wiggled his fingers like quotes marks, "and opts out."

Sam stopped smiling.

"We'll need a plan A."

"We will?"

"Yeah. In order to red-flag the other person by . . ." the waitress strolled by whistling, "Humming."

"What!?" Sam watched the elderly waitress enter the swinging door of the kitchen. Sam swung her glint of disapproval to the 'other person.' Moments like this Jack O'Neill drove her bonkers.

"Yeah. Hum a show tune or familiar ditty. Say oh, the Simpson Show's theme song."He snapped his fingers while his face split into a grin that emphasized those boyish dimples.

Heat rising under her skin, Sam made the opposite expression.

"No, huh?" He cringed.

"No."

"Fine. You're the genius. Think of a plan B. But under no circumstances do we hum a musical score from _The Wizard of Oz_ or a Gene Kelly movie. That'd be wrong on so many levels."

"Mu--sical scores?" Sam swallowed. "What if there's no '_new significant other_' what if we just feel like humming?"

Jack skimmed his calloused fingertips across her forearm then retreated with prudence. "Sam, in all the years we've known each other I've never heard you hum. Sing, whistle sure, I'll give ya that. But like me, you solo best in the shower."

"And you'd know that how?" She tilted her head with a mischievous gleam.

Jack leaned forward. Full color warmed his weathered features. "Colonel Invisible," he hinted with a nervous glance at the patrons.

"Oh, I almost forgot." She snickered.

"Spare me. You were pissed for weeks."

"And I had a right. Should have pressed charges." It never crossed her mind, but she wanted to remind him how being invisible had gone to his big head. General Hammond didn't know half of what went down. Meanwhile Daniel, Teal'c, and Janet were still recovering.

"Swell. I'll give ya that. But I swear I was protecting you from the powers of darkness." He dramatically defended. "Nirrti wanted your ass. Still does. Not that I don't want your—" his scarred brow lifted.

Two aging women limped toward the bathroom. One woman gasped. The other winked at Jack, who then turned three shades of a turnip.

Sam strangled a chortle.

"Oy! Did I say that?" He realized the 70ish woman thought he'd said that to her.

"Ya think." Sam switched topics. "Okay then, we'll hum. But no '_Row, Row, Row Your Boat_'. And you better know there's no reason that I will ever want an out." She grazed her nails across his wrist hairs.

"I never said you would. I'm just providing a plan encase . . ." he sipped his coffee. "If things go sour and one of us starts to hum, neither will be surprised as to the how or why. I mean something significant would have to come between us. Like some really nice fellow—for you. Not that I'd blame ya . . ." His eyes clouded. He looked away.

Sam could count the times she'd seen such depth of emotion on Jack O'Neill's stoic face. This amazing humble man loved her! Sam's heart soared. "That won't happen." She reassured, circling his wrist, thrilled by the silky hairs that her fingertips engaged.H

"Look, I'm not the best Tuna in the sea, Sam, and--."

"Sir?" _Here we go again!_

"What?" he naively set down his coffee cup.

"With all due respect. Zip it!"

"Sweet."

Her purposeful touch ignited a fire in the colonel's sable eyes that she'd not seen in sometime. Jack intertwined long callused fingers with her softer ones and held firm. His palms were surprisingly dry and hot. Their gazes locked and loaded. Holy Hannah! Sam swore he was about to pounce over the table and kiss her. Well if he didn't, she would. Their desire blazed like an inferno. One she'd been trying to avoid way too long.

"Samantha," her name eased off his tongue with that sexy lisp that turned her world on end. She felt his muscular pull and they leaned toward each other. Jack cradled her face. Their strained posturing caused Sam to worry about his knees.

She inhaled his distinct male scent.

Heads tilted.

Mouths almost caressed.

Sam knew his lips would be soft and . . .

This was so dangerous.

So against the none-frat rules, against everything she believed and honored.

Sam's self-respect nosedived.

As if Jack experienced the same sentiment he let go. They un-ceremonially settled into their seats. Avoiding him, Sam clasped her hands in her lap. Man, he'd almost kissed her. Almost! The earth had shifted ten degrees due south. What would happen if they kissed for real?

Their evasive glances realigned. For the briefest moment Sam glimpsed Jack's intimate longing followed by his '_no way in hell_' officer's resolve. She prayed that he recognized the same mindset in her. Like Apophis' force shield, protocol separated them and that made Sam respect Jack more than anyone alive or dead. She knew of no man who'd sacrificed so much of himself for his country, world, and an ungrateful universe. Still, the idea that she'd nearly caved into her physical want of him unhinged Sam's disciplined nature. Dad would be disappointed.

"I—I should go." She grabbed her biker's jacket and helmet.

"Sit!" he stated in his CO timber.

Out of practiced conformity Sam obeyed. Damn the man! Why couldn't he just let her go home and cry her eyes out? Then, come Monday she'd back in form, as if this tryst never happened, as if they'd left it in their room like they'd agreed upon yesterday.

"Please, sir?" She tilted her head in the dovelike habit that normally leveled the playing field between them.

Jack's dogged glint softened, but he didn't budge. "Hey, toss me a bone, wilya?" His brows collided, amber brown eyes crinkled with that deadly O'Neill charm. No wonder Hathor and Nirrti had lusted after him, not to mention Repli-Carter.

Sam could never say no to this man and his ego depended on her feminine weakness. Resignedly, she sat her helmet on the cluttered table between them, her way of saying make this quick.

"Sam, I swear that while we're in the same chain of command what almost went-down here won't ever again. Unless of course, we fall victim to some weird, memory erasing, alien influence. Then all bets are off." His rugged hands directed traffic. "Kinda like when you drank that spiked Hawaiian Punch. I almost died when you jumped into my lap and laid a wet one on me." He nervously laughed.

Sam didn't laugh, but her heart raced with the clouded tidbits of that bombed mission.

"Ah. That was a joke." His eyes said otherwise.

Sam forced herself to stay focused; a hard task when Jack O'Neill clowned around, especially about them. Only years of discipline kept her from warming his lap and lips.

Another sexual tense moment ensued.

"So axe-nay extraterrestrial memory eraser device, huh?" His cute faced folded, his smile flat-lined.

Sam hated to see him struggle. "You, Jack O'Neill, are utterly incorrigible." She surrendered with a snort and giggle.

He relaxed. "Only for you, Samantha Carter, only for you."

"Ditto." They shared another unprofessional moment.

"Well then, here's to future space invaders mind control." He raised his coffee cup in jest. She did the same. "May Thor exploit us as lab rats," he whimsically announced. "Something reversible mind ya, but without our prior consent, coz otherwise, Hammond will can our asses."

"Hail Thor!" Sam mocked just as three Air Force National Guard vehicles with weekend warriors arrived at the gas station pumps. Jack's cautious gaze followed Sam's to the window. Almost a hundred miles from base and they couldn't escape reality.

"Easy," he reassured. "The_ Big Guy_ upstairs has got our sixes." Jack gestured skyward and he wasn't talking about Thor."

Sam tilted her head and engaged his convinced expression. Jack knew her discomfort with spiritual matters. True, he often mocked religion and slammed the devil, but never once, had she heard him mock God Almighty. Her contemplative silence made him wince.

"Um, they say that ya know." The furrow between his brows made a crater.

"Sure." Sam put him at ease. "You forget that I was raised believing that too. I just sometimes . . ." she trailed off.

"Ah, well, I'm just saying." He toyed with his soiled spoon.

Sam quelled his fidgeting with her still hands. "Thanks."

"Hey, think nothing of it." A smile etched his crinkled eyes. Jack squeezed her fingers then let go. Just like the vulnerability, few folks ever glimpsed Jack's spiritual edge. Beneath that gruff, cynical, kickass exterior dwelled a man of unspoken convictions. Sam recognized that same unshakable belief abided within her father and General Hammond. Just that with age, Dad and Hammond had become comfortable verbalizing. She realized the three men she most loved, not only practiced honorable principles, but trusted in a higher source. And in their hazardous occupation, faith made a person an asset, not a liability.

"Hey, but someday, Carter. . ." Jack shattered her musings and she glimpsed the flirtatious tug of his left dimple accompanied by a wink of promise. Together they watched the Air National Guard Unit leave without incident. Jack was right, someone had their sixes.

"So, someday what, sir?" she baited as they fell back into coy banter.

"In the words of the former first prime of Apophis, 'Wild horses, Carter, wild horses.'"

"Teal'c said that about me?" she asked with a stunned look.

"No. Fercryenoutloud. He said that about me."

Sam's blue eyes rounded.

"Crap! Not that way. Oh, dang. . ." Jack dragged a hand up his face and through his hair before engaging her mischievous gleam. "Funny." He delivered a disdainful look that under any other circumstances would have made her gulp and salute.

Instead . . . "Um," Sam leaned forward and huskily asked, "So is there is any analytical correlation between wild horses and fishing?"

His atypical O'Neill dense look slipped into place. "Ah. So this is one of those trick animal, mineral or vegetable questions, aye?" his Minnesotan accent rang true.

"You tell me, sir?" Sam removed her helmet from the table. He recognized her unspoken agreement to hang out a while longer and smiled.

"Jack?"

"What?"

"Do you think we can really pull this off?"

"I do." His confidence resonated. "But no matter what, you must believe that I'll always be here for you, Sam."

"I know."

"Do you?" he sounded unsure.

"Of course."

"Nice. Then when you're up to it, let's discuss Marty."

"Sir?"

"Sam, you took the life of Jolinar's life-mate, someone you considered close, as in more than a friend."

"Now wait just a moment. Martouf and I weren't involved that way."

"I know. But he was in love with you."

"How'd you," she flinched, "Know?"

"My knees are crap, not my eyes. Besides Marty and I chewed the fat a few times."

"Wow!" She blushed.

"Yeah, a bit awkward, but overall, he knew that you and me . . . Why, just before I was to get my brain toasted, he gave us his Tok'ra blessing. Which I now realize was total bullshit." He pulled a face. "Ya see the irony, here?"

Sam nodded. Tears threatened. "I never wanted to hurt him. I made it clear that I didn't love him that way." Her heart hit the floor. "Jack, I killed him."

"Ya did what you had to do. I only wished I'd made that final shot, not you. I hate seeing you hurt like this, Carter."

"I know. Um, can we talk about this later?" She dabbed new tears.

"Sure. Whenever ya want. I'm here . . . always." He picked up the greasy menu, then waved the waitress toward them, announcing, "I'm hungry."

"Me too." She appreciated his long suffering patience.

"So name your next heart attack." He warily skimmed the cholesterol-stuffed specials.

"Bacon cheeseburger and fries."

"Ah, a woman after my own bad health. Diet coke?"

"Of course."

Jack winked.

"But first I need to um," she nodded toward the restroom.

"Hey, I'll order. You go forth, and pee to your bodily contentment." His dimples tucked deep along his mouth.

"Thanks. I think."

"Goodnight my someone, goodnight," he dramatically whispered.

Sam's mouth opened then shut at this never before seen poetic side of Jack O'Neill.

"Needs work, huh?" He presented a doubtful look.

"There's promise." She winked back.

"Cool." He smiled.

Shaking her head, Sam slipped out of their booth and turned toward the women's restroom. "Oh, sir," she realized he'd not answered her playful question.

"Animal, Carter, definitely animal."

Warmth spotted her cheeks. Joyful, Sam felt Jack's possessive gaze all the way to the restroom. One thing for certain, she'd never look at wild horses and fishing the same way. Coz, Jack O'Neill was her one safe bet.

**More to come. . .**

PS: For those questioning the time-line of Jack's invisibility scene that wasn't referred to until S10, here's my writer's explanation.

I wouldn't expect C.J. to shave his hair for the believability of one prior mission before S7, if not S4. After Sam took up with Pete, our honorable Jack, even if invisible would never spy on Sam in the base showers. Prior to that, they had an unspoken bond as wannabe lovers and as Jack validated his behavior, he was watching her back. Just remember Sam's expression at his honesty of being alone with her in the shower room. Yeah, pissed or not, she loved him. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Readers, sorry for the delay, but it's summer and well I'm out more than I'm inside. Anyway, here's the next installment. Again, far longer than intended, but it's winding to a close. There's no doubt that Sam has a lot on her mind, especially memories with Jack before she confronts him with her heart. I hope you enjoy this chapter and that part of my goal as a Stargate SG-1 fanfic writer is to incorporate series cannon with the_** what ifs**_.

I realize you are all busy, but any feedback is a positive encouragement to me.

Note: The television show Stargate SG-1 is so not mine, but what happens inside my wild imagination belongs to me.

No beta. So all mistakes are mine, and I apologize in advance.

HailDorothy

**FACE THE MUSIC**

**Part 5**

**SGC – Jack's office**

Alone in the artificial darkness, Jack startled awake and cranked loose the kinks in his neck. _Ow!_

He'd been dreaming, reliving the conversation between him and Carter at that trucker's café four years back. Talk 'bout wishful thinking. Had they really been that blissfully dense? Had he really flirted with her about the 'twins?' Oy! Had Maybourne ever caught them alone like that, they'd have been ground into NID dog biscuits and fed to the Goa'uld.

_Oh, fercryingoutloud! _He shook the tightness out his knees, then poured a glass of water and drained it dry. His stomach rumbled. Dang burrito!

Settling back into the chair, another memory flashed across his weary fron, a visit to Daniel's family's Montana farm. A smile arched Jack's droll expression. A Samantha moment—a glimpse of what they could have had together. Could, being the operative word. _The bullet point being that no one, not even Baal can steal what you will never have. All those dumb what ifs. Well, Jack, you'll always have a stolen time loop kiss . . . er kisses, shared secret vows, hot sweaty lovemaking beneath an ice planet, and one of several peaceful mornings on a Montana ranch with the woman you aren't suppose to love. _

_Dumb what ifs? _

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Recalling their conversation in the café Sam backhanded leaking eyes. That'd been one of the happiest days of her life. She recalled another Jack moment before the colonel and Teal'c were stranded on the X-302. A lot went down inside that underground power station of the ice planet. Again, specific elements didn't make either of their reports nor Daniel and Teal'c's. Sam hated that, but suspected that per usual, General Hammond knew more than he ever eluded too.

That became apparent when after the X-302 incident, he ordered SG-1 on a team downtime to reconnect, followed by alone time. Sam knew Jack wanted to go to fishing, but after their 'under an alien apparatus influence,' he'd known better than ask. Instead, the team drove to southern Montana and Daniel's oldest cousin, Sidney Jackson's ranch. Sidney had cancer and moved to the city for his chemo treatments. His ninety acre ranch was on the market.

Sam shuddered. Fifth had made a mistake screwing with her head. One inaccuracy was misusing the western American terms of ranch and farm. That tiny error aside, she remained thankful that Fifth had assumed the man walking out of the barn to have been Pete. Wrong. That's when Sam knew for certain Fifth was manipulating her reminiscences. Despite her present loss and grief Sam was thankful no one, not even Fifth, could ever rob her memories of dad, and at this moment, memories of being with Jack O'Neill on a Montana ranch.

Daniel's cousin, Sidney had told Daniel that as long as the team cared for the livestock they could use the ranch house rent free. Daniel remembered the country setting from his youth and seriously considered becoming its next owner. Jack thought the idea of Daniel on a ranch was good for a laugh. Sam did too, but kept quiet. Teal'c well, he brought three cans of bug spray and two cell phones.

Nestled in a valley and surrounded by mountains, the ranch setting was breathtaking. Daniel hated it. Teal'c tolerated it. And, Jack loved everything about the old place, including the dog. Sam did her best to hide her enthusiasm and failed. The one-hundred-thirty-year-old Victorian house, country air, horses, chickens, pigs, goats, and a friendly Border Collie named, 'Max,' embraced so many longings. She'd wanted the place badly. So had Jack.

On their first morning, she awoke at six a.m. to a loaf of baked cinnamon bread and fresh coffee. Daniel and Teal'c were still upstairs asleep. Oddly, Teal'c who rarely slept more than two hours was not to be found. Sniffing the sweet bread, Sam realized Jack could bake. Then again, she wasn't surprised that he could thaw freezer dough and turn on an oven. She found his scribble on a sticky note stuck to the refrigerator door. _Damn roaster woke me. I'm in the barn. Maybe, there'll be fresh eggs for breakfast and a tough old bird for supper - Jack _

Sam laughed. After dressing, and donning a man's denim jacket she poured two coffee mugs and headed for the barn and horse corral. Max tagged along as she savored the fresh mountain air and breathtaking view. As she approached the barnyard Sam noted a basket with white and brown eggs on top of a crate. Outside the barn, she motioned to set down the mugs and open the large wooden door.

The door's sliding rail squeaked ajar. Lugging out two hay bales, Jack didn't seem surprised at her arrival. He was decked in rubber boots, jeans, and a soiled tan jacket with leather gloves. That he wore his favorite orange pullover and his baseball hat seemed right. Had he any idea how good looking he was? No, the self-effacing man hadn't a clue. Nor had he shaved his day old face stubble. Colonel Jack O'Neill considered that a serious part of downtime, the no shaving part. Sam longed to share that she liked his Don Johnson look, but that'd be inappropriate, so per usual she held her tongue.e

"Hey, sleepyhead." He squinted into the morning's light and hauled the bales to the fenced corral a few yards past her.

"Sleepyhead?" Sam followed with her offering of hot, black coffee.

"Yeah, granddad used to call grandma that, but I can't repeat what she called him the mornin' after they'd um . . ." He clamped his lean lips and dropped his gaze to his grit covered boots. The odor of manure and silage prickled Sam's nostrils. A straw stem stuck out from beneath the back of his jacket and jeans. She resisted the urge to pluck it free, let alone dwell on just what part of Jack's muscular lean body that straw had connected itself. His tight ass came to mind. Sam swallowed hard and decided to count fence posts. Oh, boy!

Jack dropped the fresh green bales. His boyish, apologetic expression greeted Sam as he yanked off the soiled gloves and plopped them atop a wood post.

Sam smiled to ease the air of tension. They'd not been completely 'alone' since those last few minutes before they gated off of the ice planet two weeks back. And that they'd both diligently strove to not be left alone made this moment more difficult.

"Um, that's sweet, Jack—err-um, sir, your grandparents I mean." She presented his steaming mug. Their fingertips grazed and a pleasurable heat ignited within Sam's womanhood. Man, one glancing touch and he sent her rational mind spinning out of control. Hot, sensual memories of being in his arms, long legs entwined and hips . . . Oh! Sam jolted to reality and took a step back.

Jack noticed, but continued as if he hadn't. "Yeah, even in their final years they were remained in love. Um, thanks." He cupped the coffee with both hands.

With a head bob Sam avoided his firm-set gaze and sipped her coffee. Steam curled up from their cups, their breaths vaporized on the crisp morning air, both lost in thoughts of the other.

"Cold?" He tipped his capped head her way.

"No. I'm fine."

"Ah." He sounded unconvinced. "Uncomfortable then?"

Sam shook her head no. "You don't make me uncomfortable, sir."

"Nice tae know." His somber expression brightened. "Perhaps, that we haven't been alone until now, aye?"

"A bit," she admitted. "And you?" She looked up.

"Oh, just peachy. That said, I think I've got a rash. Apparently sweat, hay and woolen-blend shirts don't mix. On the upside," he jammed a hand up the back of his jacket and sighed as he plucked out the offensive straw. "It might detour the next Gou'ald that tries to take me as host." His lighthearted fabrication settled Sam's Jell-O like nerves.

"I'll be sure to run that by Doctor Lee, sir."

"Yeah." Jack snorted. "You do that." He extended his right arm toward the surrounding beauty. "Quite the spread, huh?"

"It's beautiful, sir. A girl could get used to this lifestyle." She looked about not hiding her affection for the ranch before engaging his smug attentiveness. Jack's dimples tucked deep along his mouth. Sam was suddenly aware just how much she'd revealed. "What?"

"Oh, just thinking that if things were different." His eyelids lowered as she realized what he inferred. "All those _dumb what ifs._"

"Odd, but I was thinking _illogical what ifs_, sir. "

"Sweet." He grinned. "Hey, since we're on downtime you can call me Jack. And if necessary, I will make that an order." He flicked something out of his cup, before downing half of it in one swig.

Sam took a step nearer. "I'd rather you didn't, sir."

Their gazes connected.

"OK." Jack shrugged with acceptance. "But we still need to talk—ya know."

"Yes." She nibbled her bottom lip. "But do you think this is the right time and place?"

"Well, I admit I've smelled better," he sniffed his soiled jacket and pulled a face. "But Hammond sent us out of state for a reason." He gave his 'so' look.

"In order for SG-1 to reconnect and to relax."

"Ya'd like that wouldn't you," his tone clenched as did his lean jaw. Not a dimple to be had.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Not to talk. To plow straight ahead as if '_it_' he made quote marks, "never happened between us."

"I never said that," she defended setting her cup down. "You're the one keeping me at arm's length. Why ever since our memories returned you treat me like a Goa'uld."

"Coz, that's how you want it." He emptied his cup, slammed it onto a crate, and directed traffic with his arms.

"No, it's not." Annoyed with the man not the commander, Sam set down her coffee, crossed her arms over her chest and glowered.

"Body language, Carter." He tilted his silver head at her defensive stance.

Even after dropping her arms Sam remained bewildered about why he thought she was avoiding him, them. After all, she'd come to the barn knowing he was inside. Then again, she'd secretly hoped that Teal'c had been with Jack and that meant she'd have been saved from this confrontation. Damn the man! He was right. She was avoiding him!

"Crap, Carter. Three fricking minutes after we reached the surface, you called me _sir_." He got in her face.

Guilty as charged, Sam stared into his furious hurt countenance. "But I hadn't meant we couldn't discuss what happened down there. In fact, it's a given that we talk this through."

"Oy vey! That's not the point."

"So what was I to do, continue to call you Jonah and you call me Thera? Were we to fly to Vegas, return and make like a normal married couple? Flauntingly break the regs, sir, face a possible court martial?"

"Well, no I . . . guess not." He scrubbed a hand over his rugged features. Jack seemed to rationalize her distant behavior. He squinted into the sky where two eagles soared overhead. "Ya know they mate for life. Apparently once they 'do it,' they're inseparable until one of them dies. I'm just saying. . ." He flinched.

Sam's face burned. Even when he fumbled, Jack O'Neill could get straight to the point. She recalled the events after her alternate self came through the quantum mirror. He'd inquired about how she was handling the situation and if she'd wanted to talk. True, he'd not asked the obvious, but Sam knew he referred to how in Doctor Samantha Carter's world Sam and Jack had been happily married. Back then as coworkers they'd not been together long, but their mutual attraction had been present since their first introduction through General Hammond.

That first time Sam hadn't handled Jack's indirect question any better than she did his reference to the mating rituals of eagles. "We're not eagles, Colonel." Man, had she really said that?

Jack's hopeful expression crumbled. "No, Major, we're not. Ah, hell, just file a charge of 'unbecoming conduct and sexual harassment' against me, so you can get on with your life. You deserve so much better," he said with conviction.

"Only if you file the same charges against me," she said flippantly.

"Funny." His shoulders seized up as he turned toward the horse corral.

"Actually I believe it's called _under alien influence_, sir, which makes us victims."

"Well, then I was a most willing victim." Jack confessed.

"As was I." Sam urged him to look at her.

"Oh." Jack turned. The dent between his brows smoothed and his mouth tugged a little to the left. He smelled of sweat and silage with a hint of cologne. His slightly parted lips were closer than necessary. Minty mouthwash tickled her senses. She recalled how he tasted without mouthwash. Utterly delicious. Sam's estrogen level spiked. She pulled away.

Jack shifted his weight, shoved his fists into the jeans front pockets. "Geez, Carter, I just want you happy. I want—" his voice clotted as he momentarily shut his eyes. When he opened them she saw his unadulterated feelings for her.

"And I want the same for you, sir, for us." Sam dipped her head to let him see her heart. He did. Still, neither one was ready for the '_talk_'. Because that discussion would be far different than the one they'd shared at the café six months ago. Far harder and with a resolution neither of them wanted.

Emitting a guttural noise Jack pointed at the basket of speckled eggs. "So breakfast?"

"Love some, but first," Sam toke his hands in hers. "I want you to know that nothing's changed." She traced her thumbs over the hairs of his wrists. Jack squeezed her hands then eased from her hold, placing several feet between them. The man always knew when they were about to jump each other.

"But it has." He didn't need to expound. Alien mind-screwing technology aside, they'd acted upon their shared love, exchanged private vows and—now, there was the matter of damage control.

"I'm not pregnant," she blurted.

"Know that."

Startled, Sam stared up.

"Doc's medical report." Jack rubbed behind his neck and surprisingly maintained eye contact. "She knows about when those men attempted to rape you."

"Oh." She felt herself pull inward and hugged herself, trying to forget the horrible experience. "But she knows . . . that thanks to you and Daniel, they didn't. Sir, I never told Janet what happened with us."

"Yeah, figured that much . . ." he trailed off. "But doc wasn't born yesterday, nor was Hammond."

"Yeah," she agreed with a deflated sigh. They stood in silence no doubt recalling their passionate intimacy, at least that's what Sam was doing.

Jack made a deep guttural sound. Sam glanced over to find his color had darkened and her gaze dipped to his lean waist and groin. He never wore a sidearm there. Their eyes met and held. Oh!

"Awkward." Sam's voice hitched.

"Very." He broke the sexual tension with an evil wink. "Wanna dance?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "As in line-dancing?"

"Is there any other?" He mocked, but his sultry look said differently. The horizontal something or another came to Sam's mind.

The horses whinnied.

"Saved by the nay." He snorted, broke the bale twine and tossed the sweet scented feed over the railing and into a manger. Sam joined him. Sounds and smells of the country and ranch embraced them. Some pleasant. Some not. Horse dung? Yep. A soft zephyr tousled Sam's short butchered hair. Janet had done her best to even out the bangs. Prior, Sam had been in the agonizing process of growing out her hair so she could braid or pull it back on duty. Now, perhaps not. Jack said the chopped style made her look like a rock star. What a kiss-up. Sam's heart lurched. Kissing wasn't something they'd be doing again soon, nor anything else. Of course, since those vows had just been shared before themselves and God Almighty they weren't legal—or binding.

Still, Jonah did mention something interesting that special night. "This is way far nicer than our first marriage ritual when we hurled on each other."

When Sam had asked what he meant, Jonah replied with innocent confusion, "Ah, got nothing. But it means something right? Why we've always had these feelings?"

Sam had no answer then. However, since her memories had returned his statement haunted her. Maybe with his memory back to normal she should pursue it. Feeding hay directly to the mare, Sam sidled a glance at her commander. The man that she loved gently rubbed the cheek of the gelding then continued to toss hay into the manger. She knew he was thinking, trying to form his next sentence.

"Sir, I don't regret what happened between us. And I miss Jonah." Her voice broke enough for him to hear her emotion.

Holding an armful of hay, Jack slowly faced her. She knew her confession was the last thing he'd expected her to say, let alone admit, even to him. "Well I miss Thera—a lot." He struggled.

She blushed with a head bob. "That's all I need to hear, sir."

"Ah." His mouth twisted. "Me too."

"But no one must ever know." She insisted with an unflinching stare.

"No, ma'am. We'll lock that inside '_the room_' right beside the other need to know secrets." The same weary resignation he'd donned when she'd called him 'sir' on that revealing day shadowed his rugged features. Jack rubbed his eyes. "Besides it's not as if they were legally obligatory or anything."

Her heart racing Sam glanced up.

Jack's face scrunched with discord. "Those words we um," his hands directed traffic between them, "Exchanged."

"Of course not, sir." Tears singed her eyelids and she looked at the horses. "We weren't ourselves."

"Oh, I think we were," he whispered, grazing her cheeks with his knuckles.

Sam caught his hands and leaned into his warming touch, relishing his honesty and resolve. He didn't let go. Urgency overwhelmed her. "Um, what you said down there about our first weird wedding ritual. Did you mean that time on PX—."

"O'Neill, are these fresh fowl eggs to be a part our breakfast sustenance?" Teal'c's voice resonated from the sidewalk.

"T?" Jack dropped his hands. Sam stepped away and faced the Jaffa only to find Daniel beside him, busily swatting flies.

Heat warmed Sam's face and throat. They'd been caught in the act—again. Man!

"Yep, those are just a part of a hearty down home ranch breakfast, T," Jack gestured at the eggs.

Teal'c nodded a Jaffa smile or lack thereof, but with a strange glimmer in his amber eyes.

"Morning guys," Daniel chimed. "We aren't interrupting?"

"No!" Sam and Jack blurted.

"Please elaborate, O'Neill." Teal'c tilted his hairless head, his eyes growing in size. Was that smugness?

"Elaborate you say?" Jack nervously glanced at Sam.

"I did." Teal'c nodded.

Daniel watched with amusement.

"Carter?"

"Sir?" Sam decided to let him sink alone.

Scowling, he turned to Teal'c who looked out of place holding the basket of eggs.

"Well, um, we're just out here, enjoying the splendid morning air and considering whether we have the equestrian abilities to ride such fine horseflesh. Yeser-ree, just sucking up this crisp clean air." Jack inhaled deep, and pounded his chest like a zoo gorilla.

Sam felt the tug of a grin and looked off toward the mountain range.

"Oh, pleez." Daniel snorted, upping the stress factor.

"You profoundly exaggerate, O'Neill." Teal'c looked Jack in the eyes, awaiting confirmation.

Sam glanced at her commander. Spots of color stained his cheeks. She wasn't sure if it was humiliation, anger or both.

"Do you not concur, Major Carter?" Teal'c set his serious gaze upon her.

Sam made like a fish out of water face. "I— "

"I'm hungry!" Jack tossed the remaining hay into the manger and without a backward glance marched toward the house.

"Indeed." Teal'c nodded at Sam and Daniel then followed Jack.

Sam stayed rooted watching her lover— Oh, man, she'd just thought of him in a way she had no right, neither emotionally let alone legally.

His hands stuffed into his casual slack pockets, Daniel strolled over. "So, Sam, hilarious as this all is, why don't you and Jack get together? Teal'c and I will turn a blind eye. No one else has to know."

Her emotions about to detonate, Sam gawked at the younger man. "But he and I would know, Daniel. Not being military you've never understood that honoring the no-frat code is of utmost priority to Colonel O'Neill and me. Our so called 'getting together' would destroy whatever future we might have down the road." If that hasn't already happened, she sadly concluded. "In time, we'd lose respect for each other and the uniforms we wear. We'd come to hate each other, Daniel. It's because we care more than we should that we aren't going to pursue an intimate relationship."

"But on the ice planet the two of you." He tipped an open hand and flipped it over.

"What?" Sam challenged, hoping Daniel didn't know just how close they'd gotten beneath the surface.

"I mean, Jonah and Thera. Didn't they well, you know do the horizontal rumba?" He intertwined two fingers.

Pulse quickening Sam's eyes stretched upward.

"Whoops." Daniel dropped his hands. "I so didn't mean what that meant."

Sam gaped, then hissed, "Daniel, if I were the colonel would we be having this discussion?"

"No! You're kidding, right?"

Her arms akimbo Sam glowered.

"Not kidding, uh? Oh! Well. Sure. I see your point." He removed his dirty glasses and cleaned them with his t-shirt. "Jack would plant me in six feet of manure."

"Twelve."

"I'm sorry. I'd no right to interfere or suggest."

"No you didn't." Her stern look softened.

Daniel did his stumble and fumble routine. Sam inwardly smiled. He obviously spent too much time around Jack.

"So, as I friend I can't even weigh in my opinion?"

"Daniel, you make it a daily exercise to share your opinion, even when it's not wanted."

"Hey, now you sound like Jack!" He whined.

"Please Daniel?" she begged off and turned toward the sidewalk.

"Well at least my not being military I've a right to share what I think about you two pig-headed Romeo and Juliet's."

That did it! Sam halted and gawked at the plum-faced linguist. He was honestly serious. "Romeo and Juliet?" she mouthed.

"Hey, this is one tragic play going on around me. Saving the world aside, you and Jack are my best friends, including Teal'c. SG-1 is my family, Sam. And you and Jack have sacrificed so much. It's time you put yourselves first . . ." He slapped a biting black fly and yelped.

Sam sighed. "We know you care, Daniel." She forced a somnolent smile. "And we appreciate it, really. But you must understand and accept that our positions on the matter aren't about to change."

"I'm trying. Hey, please don't tell Jack what I said, because I'd like to live to see my next birthday."

"Don't worry." She collected the coffee cups. "My lips are sealed."

"Thanks." Daniel glanced at the horses and sneezed. "Hay fever," he explained.

She giggled. No way would Daniel ever buy this gorgeous place.

"Well, ah my," he tilted his head at the house, "Stomach's growling."

"Mine too." Sam grinned as he turned a cowardly backside, jogged a few feet ahead before slowing his pace.

"Hey kids!" In stocking feet, and minus the jacket and ball cap Jack stepped onto the front porch. "Chows on!"

Sam ran up to Daniel and matched his easy gait. Her limbs felt heavy, her heart heavier. At the house, Jack clutched the porch rail and looked off into the surrounding fields and woods. At her approach, his head swerved. Their gazes locked. He smiled crookedly. She blushed.

Nothing got passed Daniel. "Geez, will ya two get a room?" He bonded up the steps and into the house, shooting a wary glance toward Jack's backside.

To Sam's relief, her CO dismissed his friend's outburst with the hike and dip of his shoulders. Avoiding his wry expression, she walked over and mimicked his relaxed stature then admired the Montana landscape.

"Actually that's not what I'd been thinking." Jack rubbed his lower back as if it ached.

"Me either." She smiled, but kept her focus on the outside view.

"Not that I don't think about _that_," his voice bottomed out.

Sam smiled. "So a penny for your thoughts, sir?" She turned ever so slightly.

"I assume that's not considering plummeting market values and the every rising inflated dollar."

"Purely hypothetical, sir."

"Ah. Then consider it a freebee." His attention fixed away from her.

A soothing pause of normalcy settled between them.

"So?" She teasingly poked her elbow to his ribs.

He let go of the porch rail and looked at her. "Oh, just that while I was watching you stroll toward the house in those jeans, sweater and oversized jacket, I started to think _dumb and then even dumber what ifs,_ minus a harping Daniel at your side, of course."

"He wasn't badgering." Sam refused to meet his captive look.

"I know when you fib your ass off, Carter."

"Sorry, sir, but I stick to my fib. Daniel wasn't harping."

"Fine. Let's call it 'counseling the lovelorn.'"

"How'd?" Sam's mouth opened then shut.

"Guess you do need this downtime, Carter, or that ever observant mind of yours would have noticed that the barnyard is downwind from the house. And when there's a southwesterly and the kitchen's window open—"

"Whoops!" Sam nervously glanced up. "Then they heard?"

"Yeah sure ya betcha." A grin split Jack's blue-shadowed face. Sam's heart calmed. "Though, nice recovery with Daniel."

"Why thank you, Colonel."

Amid chirping birds, and country noise came the clink of plates, the sizzle of bacon, eggs and pancakes. The breakfast smells waffling through the screen door made Sam's stomach rubble.

Jack's gut fired back with a loud growl. Patting his six-pack he admitted, "So, me thinks we are both ravished, my lady?"

"Indeed, good sir." Sam laughed softly.

"Hey, guys," Daniel whined, "Your eggs are getting rock hard and Teal'c's on his fifth pancake!"

"Cool your jets, Danny boy." Being the gentleman, Jack opened the screen door for Sam. "Shall we?" He offered his arm. She thought to decline then '_what the heck_.' Interlacing her arm in his, they strolled into the warm inviting house that smelled like home.

As Jack and Sam settled into their chairs at the dinning table, Sam felt Jack's intimate gaze upon her. Even though, they didn't make eye contact, Major Samantha Carter knew exactly what Colonel Jack O'Neill was thinking.

_Dumb, illogical what ifs. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Readers: I'm winding up this story in the next few chapters. Because times a-wasting and I've received more than a few impatient posts, I've deleted scenes in order to end everyone's agony, including my own. If time permits, I will post those chapters as 'missing scenes from Face the Music.' **

**Thanks so much for the generous feedback, corrections and suggestions. If I forgot to thank you personally, I apologize tenfold. – HailDorothy **

**JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ**

**PART 6**

Body aching, Sam lifted her head off the conference table and looked around, then at the wall clock. Great! She'd fallen asleep just long enough to have a flash of the past. She and Jack at that Montana ranch.

Stifling a yawn, she confronted her true feeling about the experience. Four days, five nights with the colonel on that ranch and they never did talk '_it_' out. _The ability to skirt personal issues never has been either of our strong points._ Sam hated confrontation of any kind, especially regarding Jack O'Neill. _Yep, I'm a sissy alright. But when I do take the bull by the horns, he runs for cover. _

A more disturbing thought reared its ugly head. _Perhaps because we only made love one time doesn't fall under Jack's idea of 'serious crap.'_ Oh, no, what if he hadn't enjoyed making love with her? What if her ineptness had killed his physical attraction toward her? Maybe, he really did just appreciate her left brain now.

_And let's not ignore the down and dirty of that sexual encounter. The majority of that underground mission the both of you were hot, gritty, and sweating. Nothing romance worthy with that scenario. _ Still, she'd never wanted anyone back then or now as much as she wanted Jack O'Neill. Sam recalled their physical and emotional meltdown that night. For Sam every sun in the universe had exploded. Afterward he'd declared that their lovemaking had broken all his past romance encounters, at least those he could recall. Then again, Jonah couldn't recall anyone but Thera.

Now he would have memories of making love with Kerry Johnson and Sam would have a similar recall with Pete, one that she honestly never set out to experience. The hum of an elevator door opening and closing on the SGC level triggered further regrets.

So why had she hummed that day in the elevator? Sam swore it'd been a Freudian slip. She had still been passionately in love the colonel. But she enjoyed the attention Pete lavished upon her. And in the beginning just like Narim and Martouf, the police detective had been a minor diversion nothing more. Men who looked beyond the uniform label that warned, 'No pawing this officer of the United States Air Force' and of course, 'Her brains a national treasure, don'cha know.' And although no pawing occurred, both aliens had respectfully treated Sam like a desirable woman. Something she longed to experience again from the one man she couldn't have, Jack O'Neill.

Only since her Prometheus stranding had Sam looked for a serious way out with Jack. Between her hallucination and his frigid treatment after her rescue, she believed that he no longer loved her, least not the way he once had. Well, according to Daniel, Teal'c, Cassandra and her father, Sam was quite wrong. Most of Dad's final words regarded her present state of happiness. He'd made it vividly clear about 'whom' he believed made her happy. And it wasn't Pete.

"Dad?" Sam asked as if expecting an answer, "I wished you'd told me this sooner . . . I wish you were here to guide me." She stilled a falling tear and stifled a sob. "I am such a bonehead!" Yeah, that one mega second of humming a stupid TV show ditty called '_Star—whatever_' severed a happily-ever-after future with Jack O'Neill.

The conference room's soft lightening encouraged Sam's exhausted state. She shut her aching eyes then folded her arms on the cool surface of the table to rest her head a moment longer.

"Hey."

Sam jolted upright and focused on the adorable blue-eyed, brown haired girl sitting in the General's chair. Sam glanced nervously around. She was inside the SGC conference room, the lights still dim and General O'Neill but feet away with a door between them. Sam rubbed her sorry eyes and refocused on the smiling adolescent tapping a pen against the table in an annoyingly common manner.

"He's thinking ya know." The girl shoved off the table and spun the chair, nodding as she twirled past the general's office door, "about you guys." She giggled. "Woo, dizzy!"

"Grace?"

"Sam?" The chair continued to orbit. The girl's smile widened with playful glee. Sam ignored the childish antics then reached out and grabbed the chair, bringing it to an abrupt halt.

"Don't be a spoiled sport." Grace contorted her face.

"I'm not a spoiled sport."

"Testy."

"Grieving."

"Yeah, sorry about Dad and Selmak."

"Thanks." Sam rubbed her temples and stared the girl up, down and around. "I never expected to see you again."

"Yes, well your choice. Not mine." She extended her long skinny legs and smoothed the ruffled hem of her white-pinafore dress. Sam's attention zoned in on the girl's heart shaped face, shoulder-length, golden brown curls, steel blue eyes and dimples.

A shiver shot through Sam. "You're not real."

"Are too." Once again the disturbing familiarity of Grace's gestures and mouthy lip, that ten months later Sam refused to acknowledge. Because if she did, that meant that personal choices made since Prometheus had been based on a humongous erroneous apotheosis.

"Are not—" Sam snipped.

"Redundant."

"Exasperating." Sam countered.

"Fine. I'll give you that. So, let's go rollerblading or even better, take in a Hannah Montana concert. Get it?" She snickered and hung quote marks with her middle fingers. "Hannah Montana?"

"Oh, God, no."

"Actually it's not nice to take His name in vain. And oh, He has a lot to do with our little chitchat here."

"I was praying not cursing."

"Gosh, golly and go figure."

Sam glared at the freckled faced girl. "Just because you talk like General O'Neill doesn't mean you're real."

"Have it your way, Carter."

"I will." To realign her sanity Sam quoted, "Pi is a mathematical constant that represents the ratio of any circle's circumference to its diameter in Euclidean geometry, which is the same as the ratio of a circle's area to the square of its radius and it's approximately equal to 3.14159 --"

"Boring." Grace yawned and disassembled the pen then reassembled it minus the spring. The girl tossed the tiny spring over her shoulder, planted her fingers in her ears and giggled. "Fire in the hole!"

Sam rolled her eyes.

"Not working for ya, huh? How about we row our boat down memory lane?"

"I'll pass. Been doing that a lot today."

"Fine. I'll row alone down that preverbal creek." Grace's little girl voice altered into that of Jack O'Neill's. "Oh, here we go. Another scientist. General . . . please?"

Sam: "Theoretical astrophysicist. . . .Are we going to arm wrestle? And I'm an Air Force officer just like you are, Colonel. And just because my reproductive organs are on the inside instead of the outside, doesn't mean I can't handle whatever you can handle."

Jack: "Oh, this has nothing to do with you being a woman. I like women. I've just got a little problem with scientists. Ladies first."

Sam: "You know you really will like me when you get to know me, sir."

Jack: "Oh, I adore you already, Captain. You go, girl!"

Sam gasped. However random the selection, Grace relayed word for word conversations from Sam and the general's past.

"A bit over the top?" Grace's sweet innocence returned.

"Stop that!" Sam shut her eyes, hoping the stress induced image would vanish. She cocked one eye open to find Grace hadn't left. Just peachy, now she was blowing bubbles. What was it with Jack O'Neill and bubbles?

"I'm so not touching that _evil thought_ with a ten foot pole."

"I wasn't thinking '_that_.' Sam blushed.

"Do pigs fly?" Grace fluttered her lashes. "Actually, you were the one who blew bubbles as a kid." Grace nudged Sam's memories.

"Wow." Sam realized her mouth was as wide open as were her eyes and she clamped her lips shut.

Jack's tenor rolled smoothly off of Grace's tongue. "Do I look pissed? Yada, yada. Sweet. Peachy. Thor, old buddy, dear friend. Cool. Neat. Good morning, campers. Ya think? Does it say colonel anywhere on my uniform? We're off to see the wizard! Another pissing snakehead! Carter, what'd I say about touching? Hail Dorothy! Oy vey!"

Grace then proceeded to mimic Sam. "Man, oh, man. Welcome to my life. With all due respect, sir, that's not only illogical it's brilliant. It took us fifteen years and three super computers to MacGyver a system for the gate on Earth. I guess I've always had a thing for the lunatic fringe. Oh, boy. Let's not touch anything yet. I'm kinda fond of this era."

Before Sam could interrupt Grace blurted, "Inertial dampeners."

"Cool . . . and check. Phasers?"

"Sorry, sir." Whoops, that'd been a nasty mission, Sam grimaced.

"You know how much I hate clichés, Carter."

"_That_ wasn't cliché." Sam vented louder than intended.

"Whatever." Grace flippantly waved her hand.

"Holy Hannah!" Sam shot out of her seat as reality registered.

"Holy buckets!"

Sam gawked.

"Needs work don'cha know?" Grace's Minnesotan accent held concern.

Sam mutely nodded and glanced at the general's door, expecting her antics to make him storm the conference room.

"Easy. Besides, he can't hear us—yet." Grace smirked, revealing a missing tooth. That was new—the missing tooth.

Unnerved, Sam sat back down. "I assume you're him," she looked toward Jack's dark office window.

"You assume wrong, Colonel."

"Just go." Sam threw up her hands in surrender.

"Three fries short of a happy meal, huh?"

"Getting there." Sam mumbled. "Now will you go away?"

"No. And I'm not _all him_. Take a serious look at me, wilya?" she pleaded in her childish manner. Sam did and saw an adorable vulnerable child begging for attention. Sam's attention.

"I am who and what you've wanted for so very long time. I am a part of that awesome man you're avoiding," she nodded toward the office. "And whether or not ya noticed, I'm a part of you, Samantha Carter."

Sam's head hurt. "Are you saying that you are a product of," she pointed at Jack's office.

"Well, you'd prefer the following definition: a human life resulting from the physical union between a man and woman that are of course, passionately and forever in love. He'd just say, 'Who's your, Daddy!'" Grace giggled.

"Funny." Sam huffed.

"He'd say that too." Grace snorted. "But yeah, that's the jest of it. I am a vision of what has yet to culminate. And if you don't do something soon, I may not ever be born."

"Oh, crap!" Sam had an epiphany.

"Hey how come, whenever I even think the '_c_' word, I get a royal butt chewing?" She gestured above them. Before Sam could answer Grace smiled. "Grandpa Carter says, 'Hi kiddo,' and that you shouldn't worry about him, coz he's with Grandma. They want you happy and. . ." Grace glanced up. "OK, don't get your panties in a bind. I'm coming back." She turned and looked longingly at Sam. "Please, Mommy, don't make me wait too long. Tell my daddy how you feel. Go get him, now!"

"Grace!" Sam bolted upright in the hard plastic chair. She was alone. Oh, for crying out loud! She'd slept another ten minutes. Talk about procrastination. Hallucination or not, Grace's words were fresh in her mind and heart. Sam shoved to her feet, crossed the short distance and rapped on the General's oak door.

She heard the distinct squeak of his leather chair and boot steps. No answer.

"Sir are you in here?" She paced to the window to peer through the drawn shades.

"Nope," he glibly answered.

Sam sighed loudly then smiled at his teasing banter. This was a good sign, right?

"Give me a sec, Carter," his tone switched to business.

"Yes, sir." Oh, boy. Had she any chance in Netu to fix_ it_—_them_ and make Grace O'Neill a reality? She hoped so.

"Enter."

With a desperate prayer on her lips, Sam turned the knob of General O'Neill's door and entered his sanctuary.

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**Hold onto your pants because the climax is near at hand . . . .Really! **

**PS: Please share whether you're enjoying the culminating conclusion of Face the Music? **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Jack's Music—again.**

**SGC: General O'Neill's office**

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"Enter." Jack turned on the light. Then to his utter mortification an invisible, silent deadly gas of cosmic proportion erupted from his anus. "Oy." He should never have eaten that double bean burrito.

As the office door swung ajar Jack grabbed the evergreen air freshener and sprayed like his life depended upon it. It did. He shoved his last can of defense behind him, bumped into the desk and sent a pile of folders sailing to the floor. Just shoot me, he groaned.

Walking into the room, Sam's observant nature sized up his odder than normal behavior along with the disgustingly misaligned odors. "Um, sir?" her nose crinkled. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Is that a trick question?" He knelt to gather the scattered folders and unidentifiable paperwork. His lower gut rumbled then twisted into a pretzel.

"No." Sam hurried forward to assist.

Jack waved a hand of protest. "Hey, it's under control."

"If you say so." Was she smirking?

Jack maneuvered to his feet. He felt every physical injury of his military career. He felt old, too old for the much younger Samantha Carter. Thankful for the open door, he brandished his arms as if that would defer the lingering foul smell.

Carter stifled a respectful but none-the-less snicker. Evil woman! Another reason he loved her. Any other time he would have made some self-mutilating wisecrack. Salvaging his CO starch he turned to face Colonel Samantha Carter, this time planting his rear-cheeks on the edge of his desk without upsetting the apple cart.

"Have a chair." He flagged an arm toward one of two chairs in front of his desk.

"Thanks, sir. But I've been sitting a lot today, so I'd rather stand."

"Sure." He smiled tightly. "Still, whenever you want to, just sit. Okay?"

Sam nodded. At ease in an off the shoulder blue sweater and fitted jeans, Sam donned a pensive expression, and if he didn't know better, a worried one. She wore more foundation and makeup than usual. Then again, he preferred her all-natural look. Sam's gray-blue eyes and adorable nose appeared red and puffy from tears and too many tissue swipes. The reality of her tragic day slapped him in the face.

Jacob Carter wasn't even in his grave and Jack wanted to unlock _their room_. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn't.

Jack held her heartbreaking gaze a tad too long. Emotions escalated. Discomfort reared its ugly head. Sam riveted her attention to a spot beyond his right shoulder. Trying to form his next intelligent sentence Jack merged two paper stacks on the desk. Despite their normal comfort level, Carter was the only woman to make him go totally brain-dead. That's when he noticed the naked state of her left ring finger.

Nothing. Zip. Empty. Void of a ring. _Don't get too optimistic, old man._ _She doesn't wear it on duty. Wait! She's not on duty and was just with Petri-dish, right? _His attention returned to her left hand which she conveniently covered with her right. Sam looked up. Her cheeks blossomed.

Jack cleared his throat. "Water?" he offered. "Coffee, tea, Cheetos." '_Me?'_ He walked behind the desk and yanked the snack bag from a bottom drawer.

"No thank, you sir." She had that green around the gills look.

"Hey, don't blame ya none. These add yards to the ol' waistline." He sniffed the contents and coughed. "And are past their prime." Jack scrunched the package between his hands, pitched it across the room and into the wastebasket. _And he scores!_

Sam noticed his successful dunk. A soft smile almost arched her lips.

"Ah. Well." He winced. He was dying here. "So." He flourished a hand her direction and settled into his chair. His gut clenched and rumbled below him. He realized he should stay standing. Get closer to her. But the chicken shit that he was, Jack felt more secure behind his desk.

"So?" Her soft brows arched as she held his intense gaze.

"How ya holding up?" _Doh._

"Better than I expected. Fine even."

"Me thinks I've heard that line before." Jack pulled a face. "Don't hoodwink me, Carter." Hands clasped, he leaned forward on the desktop.

"I'm not, sir. Right now, I feel well—liberated."

"Excuse me?" His stomach pitched.

"I mean, that's not what I meant . . ." She clutched her hands at her sides. "Guess I'm still in disbelief and shock about Dad's death."

Dang! Jack longed to take her in his arms and comfort her, but his gut warned, don't go there yet. A peaceful silence nestled between them. Jack gave her a heartfelt look. He too remained stunned over Jacob's death and missed the older man. Jack would miss their unconventional relationship, sometimes pleasant, sometimes not, and highly competitive especially in regards to Sam. That was sorta sick, right?

Daniel once commented to Jack, from a safe distance of course, that Jack and Jacob were like two peas in a pod, and that's what attracted Sam to Jack. The typical father and lover syndrome. Women were often attracted to a man with the same traits their father possessed. Jack didn't get it. Really, he didn't.

And then there was Selmak. Although he'd never publically fess up Jack would miss Selmak, who for whatever snaky reason, had favored Jack, even defended him against Jacob. Still, Jack respected, trusted and liked General Carter. Jack swallowed the scratchy lump in his throat. Fine, he loved the overbearing, mule headed father of his 2IC. Jack knew firsthand how much Jacob had worried about Sam and how proud he'd been of his daughter's accomplishments.

Jack only hoped that Jacob had had time to relay his feelings to Sam. Jacob's unexpected death reaffirmed what Jack had long known. Life was here one second then pissed away the next. It mattered that one told the folks you loved. . . . Well, that you loved them. The expression of feelings remained Jack's weakest link. But Samantha Carter had shown him that words weren't always necessary. Of all the fine people he'd come to care about, she was the one person he never needed to verbalize his feelings to. And yet with all his heart, he desired to share three simple words with Samantha Carter. This however was not the time or place.

_Buzzing. _Jack heard a sweet female voice inside his head. Sam was talking and he wasn't listening. Doh.

" . . . Anyway, I called Mark. He, Connie and the kids fly in at zero eight hundred tomorrow. And I was wondering if you could send a driver to pick them up?" She took an unsteady step forward and faltered. Jack shot to his feet and around the desk to catch her. However undignified, Sam reached the chair first.

"Wow. Sorry. A little wozzy there. . ." she collapsed into the chair with a relieved look.

At her side, Jack pressed his cool palm against her flushed warm cheek. "I think you should see Doctor Lam." His concern on his sleeve. "And I can make that an order."

Sam closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Jack's heart rate skyrocketed. She was vulnerable and he didn't want to risk upsetting her further by sharing his heart. "Carter?" he drawled close to her face.

Sam lifted her head and wearily rubbed her eyes. "I'll be OK, sir. Really. Soon as we hear from Teal'c and Bra'tac, I'll go home."

"You need sleep now."

"With all due respect, sir. I want to stay."

"Why?"

"Because," Sam looked surprised at his surprise. "I want to talk . . . about us."

"Ah." Relief and tension mounted inside the walls of his gut. Thankfully, he'd turned off the security camera and audio equipment. Jack aligned the empty chair closer to hers and sat down. Their legs brushed. Jack felt her body heat. He could blow anytime, and not in a sexual way. He loved this woman and would move heaven and hell to make her emotional pain vamoose.

"Us, you say?"

"Yes." She clasped her hands in her lap and looked down.

"Hey." His voice dropped an octave as he cupped her chin and lifted it until their gazes locked. Reluctantly, Jack's hand retreated to the arm of his chair. His mouth opened and closed. Nothing exited. Frustrated with himself, Jack scrubbed a hand over his face, then donned a dense look.

"And?" His hands directed traffic between them.

"Sir, I know it's not the proper time but there . . . never seems to be one."

"Oh." Great, now he was limited to one word responses.

"But when I came to your house today--."

"You didn't expect to find Agent Johnson gracing my backyard?" He avoided her searching gaze.

"No." She blew out between her lips. "I didn't. And I want to apologize."

"No need." And then all hell broke free. Jack's gut cramped and churned. He sensed another silent deadly wind building up steam. "Um, you stay put, while I-uh . . ." he bolted off the chair as if the Goa'uld were on his ass. If he didn't make it to the head he would make an undignified scene. Not cool for a General.

"Sir?" Sam called after him.

"Stay put!" Jack hoofed it into the conference room and down the staircase.

Sam waited patiently in General O'Neill's office. Eventually, Walter informed her that the General was under the weather but would return shortly.

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"General?" Walter stuck his head into General O'Neill's private quarters.

"Come," the General's gruff voice answered.

Walter entered the spotless bedroom and shut the door. He had yet to understand how the General's desk looked like a paper-chase, while his quarters remained impeccable. Then again, the paper-chase was always reorganized before the General left for the day.

Shower steam billowed through the partially opened bathroom door.

"Did'cha bring some?" Jack stuck his arm between the bathroom door and frame then dangled long wet fingers at Walter.

"Yes sir." He handed over the anti-diarrhea medicine. "Doctor Lam said—"

"Oh fercryenoutloud I've just got the shits, Walter."

"Yes, sir." Walter flinched. "None the less, she wants you to report to the infirmary before returning to duty."

"Report? Yeah, right. When pigs squeal." Jack snorted.

"Actually pigs do squeal," Walter said, before realizing the General was messing with him--again.

"Thank you, Walter. Oh, tell Carter I'll be there shortly."

Walter glanced at his watch. "Um, sir, it's been over an hour."

"No. Really?" his voice bottomed out.

"Actually one hour and fourteen minutes, sir."

"Shit."

Wasn't that the truth, Walter mused. He hated when '_the man'_ got sick. Not that General O'Neill shared his miseries with others, quite the opposite, which Walter admired. General O'Neill remained self-effacing and conscientious that personal issues, including health, never interfered or affected the rest of his staff.

Walter was one of a privileged few to witness this frailer side of General O'Neill and he felt honored. It reminded Walter that despite Jack O'Neill's invincible reputation, he was temporal like the rest of mankind. Walter also knew O'Neill and Colonel Carter were in love. Were he to bet on a start date, it'd go back to their first mission. He often wondered if they ever gotten together romantically? And yet, the more obvious possibility that they hadn't, made Walter respect the officers even more. Still, they'd deserved a break.

A whispered prayer crossed Walter's lips. "Dear God give them a break?"

"You say something?" O'Neill yelled above the shower.

"No, sir." Walter swore the man had internal radar. "But there is something else."

"Okay. Just wait 'til I'm toweling down."

"Yes, sir." Walter paced the unadorned quarters until his gaze got wrongly distracted. Something stuck out from beneath the pillow of the General's immaculately made bed. Walter strolled over and nudged the pillow enough to reveal a 3x5 snapshot.

Wow! A photo of Colonel Carter and General O'Neill taken when the staff had been invited to celebrate Captain Carter's and Doctor Fraiser's promotions to Majors. Walter barely remembered the gathering, but he'd been present when Cassandra Fraiser snapped this picture. In the photo O'Neill and Carter stood closer than necessary, sharing intimate conversation and for the briefest second, their expressions were unguarded.

Cassandra proceeded to taunt the couple. Neither were pleased with her sense of humor. Walter recalled how they tried to keep the matter low key, especially with General Hammond present. O'Neill directed Cass inside his house. A few minutes later, she immerged on the deck wearing a huge grin of accomplishment. She apparently got a hundred dollar shopping spree for handing over the digital camera. Walter assumed he'd erased the screen. Apparently not.

The shower shut off. O'Neill hummed.

Walter shoved the photo beneath the pillow and put distance between him and the bed. He felt guilty. Still the picture confirmed what he'd already suspected. General O'Neill was still in love with Colonel Carter. And now she was about to marry a nerdy police detective.

Meanwhile, Walter had watched General O'Neill turn more inwardly than ever, if that was even possible. Since becoming base CO the man practically lived at the SGC. He deserved happiness, and had temporarily found some with Agent Johnson. Despite their discreetness, he knew they were an item, and he didn't blame O'Neill's need to stuff the loneliness. Then again, only one woman held the key to Jack O'Neill's happiness and she remained unobtainable.

Walter fantasized locking the General and Colonel in a room until they confessed their feelings and acted upon them. Sadly, Walter wasn't that brave. Plus, it'd blow his early retirement plan.

The toilet flushed. Tap water ran.

"You've something to report, Walter?" the General gargled and spit into the sink.

"Yes." Walter fidgeted and cleared his throat. "Um, Colonel Carter said to inform you that as it wasn't a standing order to remain in your office, she either be in her lab or private quarters, that's if you wish to continue your discussion."

"Oh. Yeah. Sure."

"She is quite concerned about you, sir." That was an understatement. The Colonel had called Walter three times so far and he expected another call soon.

"Well, tell her I'm peachy keen and will um . . . find her shortly."

"Yes, sir. If you're alright, SG-11 is about to dial in . . ."

"Thanks, Walter. You're dismissed."

"I hope you feel better soon, sir."

"Yeah. So does me, myself and moi." Soon as the door shut Jack vacated the bathroom, but left the fan running. Towel drying his damp head he slumped onto the bed then opened the small refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water. Jack felt stone dry. _Musta been that dang burrito. Or . . ._ No way was he going there. After sucking down the H20, he slipped into a fresh set of skivvies and BDU's. Despite denial, his mind wandered.

Flu aliments aside, only three times in his life had he gotten sick from a so called 'case of nerves.' Well, not including his first solo F-15 flight. Okay, so there was that F-302 lost in space crap incident, but then Teal'c hadn't retained his bodily functions either. Jack could only imagine how many flight mechanics passed out after opening the F-302's cockpit. Nasty.

Oh, the other occasions were all female related.

The first had been his first date at age fifteen with Joanne Buckler. He not only got the _runs_ but had vomited in the movie theater lobby's garbage can. Joanne Buckler had braced buckteeth and more zits than Jack at the time. And yet, he'd had the biggest crush on her. Later, he realized her size C breasts were the true cause of his infatuation. Some things hadn't changed. Jack was still a breast and ass guy. And Carter had one sweet set of each. The twins, he mused.

The second time was with his ex-wife Sara. Yeah it happened on their first date and then on the night he proposed marriage. Sara thought it _sweet_ that he got a 'case of jitters' over her. Cleary, she wasn't on the sending and receiving end of _sweet_.

And thirdly . . . yeah, he'd been avoiding that memory, but what the hell. It'd been eight years ago when he first met Carter. Within minutes of General Hammond dismissing his new team Jack sprinted for the head. After regurgitating his lunch, he told himself that it was an accumulation of the week's events especially that they were gating to Abydos to retrieve a sneezing Daniel. His heart knew otherwise. Doctor—er um, Captain Samantha Carter had so completely disarmed him, that he'd mentally undressed her during that first briefing. And it hadn't just been a matter of lust at first sight. Nope, he hadn't been that smitten since Sara, and that scared the living crap out of him.

Still did.

Jack's right hand searched under his pillow. Odd, it'd been on the left side but was now further to the right. He looked at the closed door and snorted. _Walter, you old snoop dog. Nothing ever gets by you. _Jack removed the picture and gazed longingly at Sam's beautiful face. She'd loved him then. And according to Daniel and Jacob, she still did. Easing the photo back in its hiding place, Jack rose off the bed.

His stomach settling, he opened the door to his private quarters and stepped into the SGC corridor. _Okay, Jack old man, time to face the music and let's not hit any sour notes._


	8. Chapter 8

Well dear readers, this Jack and Sam's story is almost finished. Part 8 is not the end, but it's coming. Please let me know what you think?

Jack hugs,

HailDorothy

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**Face the Music**

**Part** 8

**Sam's Duet**

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By now, most of the United States Air Force knew General Jacob Carter had died. Few folks knew the cause, but that didn't stop the flood of condolences and visitors hovering near Sam's lab, not to mention flowers. Her lab looked like a florist shop. So, Sam left for higher ground, her officer quarters.

"Stop worrying, Cass, all things considered, I'm holding up okay." Sam talked into her cellular phone, realizing she didn't sound okay, nor was she. On unsteady legs she strode toward the elevator. She avoided airwomen, men, and staff members wearing sympathetic looks, not to mention exchanged whispers that revolved around her father. Sam tried to block out the voices.

"Now you catch some zz's on the flight, Cass."

"Yes, ma'am." Cassandra Fraiser only addressed Sam as 'ma'am' when either teasing or angry. The teen sounded more upbeat than she had during their last phone call. "Sam, what about you and Mr. Shanahan?"

Sam groaned. She'd not wanted to go there. It'd been a sore spot since Sam and Pete's first date. Janet had not leapt for joy either. Although, no one at the SGC would ever know, the CMO had been in Jack and Sam's cheering section since day one. Because Jack spent a lot of time with Cassandra, some folks thought there was something going down between Janet and Colonel O'Neill. Not.

And then Janet was killed. Sam's heart painfully knotted. She missed Janet more than anyone would ever know. Less than a month after Janet's death, good hearted Pete suggested that if they ever married, they could adopt Cassandra. Cassandra didn't like Pete and she outright rejected his generous offer. Even before Janet came into the picture, Cassandra shared how much she wanted to live with Sam. But besides Sam's dangerous job there was the other factor, Jack.

Cassandra and Jack had instantly bonded, but Charlie's death made Jack believe he was not worthy to be anyone's father, let alone Cassandra's. Time and Cassandra changed his insecurities. Although, he and Sam rarely discussed the option after Janet adopted Cass, Sam knew he would jump through hoops of fire to have Cassandra in his life fulltime. If only.

"Sam, ya still there?" Cass's troubled tone snapped Sam back to the present.

"Um, yeah. And you'll be happy to know there is no wedding and no Pete. I broke it off today."

Silence.

"Cass?" Sam assumed the girl would be ecstatic. Now she worried.

"So does Jack know?"

"Not yet."

"Well, if you don't tell him, I will."

"You better not, young lady. Besides it's none of your business."

"Oh, yes it is. You just renewed my hope that Jack might become more than an uncle to me. Apparently, whatever Grandad said before he died, made a huge dent in that genius brain of yours."

Sam huffed. "We'll talk later." She cut Cass off. "Now I'll see you soon, hon. General O'Neill will have a driver waiting for you at the airport's arrival gate to take you to home. I wish I could say when I'll be home, but can't."

"No. I want to come to the base. I do have quarters there ya know?"

Sam winced and turned her backside to several staffers. "Um, Cass, that's not a good idea. We could go on lockdown anytime," she whispered into the phone.

"Even more reason to be with you and Jack."

Sam counted to ten and waited for one of the elevators to open. "Look, I'll talk to the General. But whatever he decides is a go, okay?"

"Fine. I'll call Jack. He's putty in my hands," she softly giggled.

"Please don't, Cassandra? He's already overextended. Having you here will be one more thing he has to worry about." Sam's shattered nerves threatened to snap.

"Okay. I won't pester him—now. But if you go on lockdown without me there, you'll regret it."

Sam decided this was not worth the haggle. "I'll see you soon, hon."

"Sam, there's something you should know."

"What?" Sam got nervous.

"I'm not ready for the college scene yet. I'm coming home for the rest of the year."

"Oh, wow!" Sam smiled into the phone. "You're sure though?"

"Yeah. And don't tell Jack he was right. I'll do that myself."

"Deal." Sam felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. It'd be good to have Cass home.

Hey, I love you, Sam," Sam heard the girl's tear clogged voice.

Her eyes flooded with tears. "And I love you, sweetie, now hurry home."

"Bye."

"Bye." Sam snapped her phone shut and hooked it onto her BDU pant's belt. In ten minutes the freshman college student would board a flight home. This had been an emotional conversation, but far better than first one they'd shared four hours earlier. General O'Neill had since spoken to Cassandra and booked her flight. Sam wasn't certain what Jack said to Cassandra, but it'd definitely calmed Cassandra regarding Dad's sudden death.

Over the past six years, Jacob Carter had stepped into the role as Cassandra's grandfather. Because Cassandra lived close to the SGC he'd seen more of her than he had of Mark's children. Sam's heart threatened to break. Cassandra had yet to accept the loss of Janet. It'd been a long rough year. Cass wasn't adjusting to house-hopping between Sam and Jack's, nor doing well in her first semester of college.

Like Sam, Cassandra was a genius and had graduated from high school at age seventeen. The teen begged to start college ASAP. As her guardians, Sam and Jack didn't encourage Cass's request to get out on her own this soon. But Sam buckled. And Jack eventually gave in, but not willingly. He believed Cassandra needed another year of family and stability before venturing off to college. He was right. Oddly, Jacob Carter sided with Cass. He'd said, "Let her go, kids. Let Cass make her own mistakes and learn from them. If it doesn't work out she'll be back." He was right too.

Now Cass's grandfather was gone. Thank God, the teenager had Jack to depend upon for a father figure. Whoops. Sam realized she'd started to think of him as 'Jack' not 'General O'Neill.' She hoped no one could read her mind.

That Jacob Carter had designated Jack as executor of his estate spoke volumes. Still, her father had personal motivation to entrust Jack with that dire duty. Dad didn't want his kids to deal with anything while grieving.

Sam knew Jack and her father and had some serious conversations today. As soon as Dad died, Jack stepped up to the plate. The General followed military protocol. He informed the Pentagon and I.O.C., contacted the funeral home and church. He'd arranged the SGC memorial service, ordered flowers and verified the newspaper obituary. The list went on. And all of this, in the midst of an impendent attack from Anubis and not knowing if Daniel was alive or dead. The man was incredible. Dad had loved and trusted Jack O'Neill in life and in death.

With thoughts torn between Jack, Dad, Cassandra, Daniel and Anubis, Samantha Carter stepped into the empty elevator, propped against the back wall and shut her stinging eyes. Someone entered the lift, but Sam didn't acknowledge them. Besides, she couldn't face another sympathetic SGC staff member. Instead, she prayed the person would be gracious enough to not yap. The ancient elevator's door closed with its usual digestive grunts then hummed a sluggish ascent.

Rustling sounds indicated the occupant wasn't empty handed. Sam concluded the person to be female. The first sign was the fragrant perfume. Secondly, Sam snuck at peek at the rose pattern travel tot near her feet.

The woman's cell phone chimed and she answered. "Yes. I just need five minutes. And I'll make sure he autographs the photo himself. Bye."

Sam's keen observation dredged-up the owner of said voice, but refused to accept the likelihood nor did she look at the woman. Sam didn't need any more drama today.

"I'm sorry about your father, Colonel Carter."

Great—Drama. She opened her eyes and turned slightly. As suspected, Special Agent Kerry Johnson stood less than three feet away.

Could this day get any worse? Sam looked at the floor meter. Johnson had selected ground level. Was the pretty brunette heading for the General's house? _Stop it, Sam!_

When Johnson smiled cordially, Sam's stomach pitched reminding her of those nasty burritos. Thankfully, Sam had only eaten a few mouthfuls. Her only symptom was minor gas. However, over a dozen staff members were sick, including General O'Neill. Bad beans from what Doctor Lam had deduced. So far, no one had gotten seriously ill, just: nausea, gas, mostly diarrhea. Sam hoped the General felt better.

Sam sensed that Johnson wanted to talk. Sam didn't.

Johnson cleared her throat. "I know this is uncomfortable for you, Colonel."

Sam assumed she meant their fiasco meeting at the General's house. "You have no idea."

"Oh, I think I do." Kerry Johnson looked at Sam forlornly.

"What?" Sam asked with touch of annoyance that was not her friendly nature. Still. . .

"I lost my father three years ago. I'm still dealing with his loss. I know how tough the next while will be for you."

"Oh. Um, thank you, Agent Johnson, but I'll be fine."_And I'm sorry about your father, she failed to say. _

"It's for the best," said the CIA agent under her breath.

Sam balked.

"I mean about my father. He had terminal cancer."

"Ah." Sam stiffened. Six years ago Dad too almost died from cancer. Still, Sam couldn't bring herself to play nice with the younger woman who warmed General O'Neill's bed. Talk about robbing the cradle. Her jaw tightened and she hedged a pinched smile.

Sighing, Sam shoved a strand of hair behind her unadorned right ear. She glanced at Johnson's classy diamond studded earrings. Nice. Not too overstated. Perfect. Sam's first impression was that this woman was beauty and perfection personified. No wonder Jack was attracted to her.

Sam's inspection wandered. Perfect flawless complexion—check. Perfect French nail manicure—check. Perfect shoulder-length, highlighted brunette hair—check. Perfect makeup, eye shadow and mascara, lip gloss—check. Perfect figure—Oy vey! Perfect twins—check. Sam wondered if those double C's were implants. Jack would know. _Stop it, Sam!_ All this perfection made Sam realize her less than perfect, less than attractive appearance. Man, she must look like a train wreck. She backhanded her leaking sore nose wondering what she had done with her tissues.

"Here." Kerry offered a fresh package of purse size Kleenex.

"Oh, thanks." Sam accepted one then kicked herself for disliking the likable woman. It wasn't Agent Johnson's fault that she was perfectly beautiful. The General always had excellent taste. Kerry and Jack had as much right to be together as had she with Pete. Sam blew her nose. What goes around comes around, she bitterly surmised, and stuffed the soiled tissue into a pocket. Sam hugged arms, wishing she'd grabbed her BDU jacket before leaving her lab.

"Look, Colonel Carter. I'm not at all certain what went down with you and Jack today, but there's something you must know."

On auto pilot regarding herself and the General, Sam sharply defended, "Nothing went down, Agent Johnson. He's my commanding officer, always has been, always will be. And I wish the two of you the very best. More than anyone that I know he deserves to be happy." Emotion clogged Sam's throat and she stared at her boots. They needed polishing.

Her entire conversation with Grace seemed like a distant dream. The woman standing across from Sam was reality. Sam spoke from her heart. "And if you make General O'Neill happy, then I'm happy."

"Oh really?" Kerry stretched her arm and pressed the red emergency stop button. "That's too bad."

The elevator lurched to a squawking halt.

"Hey!" Sam caught hold of the support rail. "Are you nuts?"

"No. But I've a jet to D.C. to catch so I'll make this fast, Colonel Carter, and before Sergeant Siler comes to our rescue with his gigantic wrench."

Funny. The agent had just cracked a joke, but Sam was in no mood. Her arms akimbo, she confronted the woman who'd stopped the elevator between floor levels.

Sam hit the _emergency release_ button followed by the green _on_ button. The elevator groaned but didn't budge. Sam glared across at the smug agent. "Why are you doing this?" She glanced at the security camera. Any moment Siler's anxious voice would crackle through the sound system. Sam waited. _Anytime now, Siler? _That's when she noted the security camera's power light was off, which meant so was the audio. Crap!

"Did I mention that I've an _in_ with sweet Siler and don't even get me started on Sergeant Harriman." Kerry winked wickedly.

Sam gasped. That she couldn't find words was probably for the best. Oh, she would talk to Siler—soon and Walter, well he was dead! But Sam could override the system. She patted her left back pocket and pulled out a small leather-cased tool kit. She knew which wires to divert and quickly unzipped the case.

"Please, don't?" the woman pleaded.

"What's this about, Agent Johnson?" Sam wielded the tiny screwdriver in a defensive manner.

"Look, I don't intend to harm you. And," she opened her black dress jacket for inspection, revealing an emerald green blouse. "I'm unarmed."

"That's a matter of interpretation." Sam regarded the woman's assets that would disarm any all American male.

"Please, Colonel Carter, this was only way to get your undivided attention before I left. And would you please lower that deadly screwdriver." She softly laughed. "I mean we're both trained in hand-to-hand hair pulling. But let's face it," she glanced around the empty elevator. "It's no fun without an audience of the male gender."

Sam dismissed her remark with a snort. "Why are you leaving? I thought you were assigned to the SGC." Her curiosity spiked and she warily returned the screwdriver to its leather case.

"I am. But I have to update the I.O.C. before I take a vacation in the Bahamas, alone."

"Oh." Relief sluiced over Sam. This meant Johnson wouldn't be with the General, at least for now.

"Now here's the deal." The CIA operative glanced at her watch and spewed in one breath, "Although, I know Jack was on the rebound, he never qualified as a _rebound candidate _because, he never got over you. The man's one love sick puppy and that's why. . ."

Sam opened her mouth to debate.

"No!" Kerry insisted. "Hear me out, please?"

"Fine." Sam braced herself against the opposite wall and tapped her right boot against the floor.

The agent released her luggage handle and babbled. "First off, I primarily date older men. Mainly, because they've got their act together and I hate the mess of housebreaking."

Sam coughed at the tacky comparison between General O'Neill and a dog, then again. Her lips twitched.

"I am accustomed to men chasing me. I like to be chased." She grinned. "What girl doesn't? When I first met Jack I sensed chemistry. So I assumed he'd chase me. Wrong. Besides a few flirtatious exchanges he stuck to business, which made me want him more. He was the first guy I have ever chased. And the more Jack resisted the more I persisted. Did I mention that he doesn't like aggressive women?"

Sam's eyes widened at the thought of Jack running from this perfect woman. Then she recalled his negative reaction to Freya/Arnise. Okay, so Jack was not fond of aggressive women. She'd remember that.

"And before you say it, he's not intimidated by our kind either."

"No, that he's not," Sam verbalized her thoughts. "Although, pesky annoyances come to mind."

"I agree. And he's clueless as to what a fine catch he is."

Sam's head bobbed in agreement. Whoops.

Kerry smiled at her slip up. "That wonderful guy is in love with you, Colonel Carter. I never had a chance. I'm sure if I hadn't broken it off today, he would have. Actually he's been distancing himself from me the last few weeks. And we haven't made lo—um, well, it's been some time now."

Heat warmed Sam's throat and face. She'd cut Pete off months ago with the excuse that she wanted to wait until their wedding night. The truth was that she no longer desired Pete, probably never had. She'd just been desperately lonely and longed to be loved . . .

Kerry continued "Colonel, I've never been dumped before and wasn't about to start now, especially by Jack O'Neill."

"You—you dumped General O'Neill?" Sam startled from her musings and stared in disbelief.

"Yes. But the way you're talking that was a mistake," she taunted.

Sam blushed. "Agent Johnson. . ."

"Call me, Kerry."

Sam met her warm eyes and inviting smile. "Okay, Kerry, call me Sam."

"Now we're getting somewhere." Johnson glanced at her watch and counted, "Three, two, one and—." The elevator squeaked then lumbered upward.

Sam rolled her eyes. Siler and Harriman were most definitely on her kickass list. She engaged Kerry Johnson's impatient gaze and plunged in headfirst. "Um, I thought you and General O'Neill were seriously. . . ." her intertwined fingers moved up and down, before she realized what that suggestive gesture meant. Mortified, Sam shoved her hands behind her back and cleared her throat.

Kerry's perfect complexion colored, but quickly recovered. "His name is Jack. You can say Jack, right?"

"Not on duty."

"Or even downtime?" Kerry probed.

"Only when he insists." _And he hasn't done that in a long time, Sam._ "Respectful address reveres his rank, and it's much easier to keep things in proper perspective." _For me._

"Forgive my forwardness, Sam, but propriety seems to be a huge part of _your_ problem. It's surely not Jack's."

"We're United States Air Force officers, Kerry."

"Hey, the Company has similar rank and none-frat rules."

"Then you realize that as long as I'm under his chain of command, well we can't."

"That's why I told Jack to retire, run the SGC as a civilian. Or you could always transfer." Kerry suggested.

"You—you and the General talked about me?" She wanted to crawl under a rock.

"Yes, Sam, we did, even if I did all the talking. It's no secret the two of you have history. You lovebirds are your own worst enemies. I mean all these wasted years and for what—to save an ungrateful galaxy?"

"Hey, if we hadn't saved this ungrateful galaxy you wouldn't be here! If you'd any idea what's out there," Sam flourished her hand above their heads. "Or how many times General O'Neill has died, how many times he was tortured . . ."

Kerry chuckled then turned solemn. "OK. I realize he's a hero and that he'd die for anyone. But mostly, he did those gallant deeds, suffered those injustices for you Samantha Carter."

"He said that?"

"No. Teal'c did."

"Teal'c!" Sam couldn't imagine any such thing.

"He shared a lot of stuff." Kerry countered.

Sam frowned. Clearly, Teal'c was becoming more human by the day. Sam needed to talk to the Jaffa about keeping secrets.

"Don't worry he didn't break anyone's confidence. That was just his subjective observation. Sam with Doctor Jackson."

_Daniel too!_ "Just how do you do that?" Sam took a step forward.

"I'm a skilled CIA operative. Determining a person's thought process based on body language is part of what I do."

"No wonder the General likes you."

"I'm not so sure he likes that part of me. I tend to ask too many questions as he often reminds me, and not always nicely might I add."

Sam nodded. "He covets his privacy."

"Sure does." Kerry agreed. "Now back to this problem you have."

Sam was too exhausted to think. "And you know what I should do?" Great, she was seeking advice from Jack's former girlfriend.

"Odd, he said those exact words."

"Weird." Sam hugged herself.

"Not really. You've probably spent more time with together than most couples do their entire marriages." Kerry shrugged.

"Wow." Sam couldn't find anything to top that.

"You're a genius scientist, Sam. However, sometimes the simplest answer to a problem proves the hardest to accept."

"I'm listening."

"Remove the obstacles. If you and Jack love each other as much as I suspect, you'll do whatever is necessary to be together."

"I guess I will." The elevator had reached Sam's floor. The steel door opened. Stepping out, Sam held the door ajar and turned back. "I'm sorry about all of this," Sam confessed.

"Hey, I chased him with my eyes wide opened. And he made it clear that he wasn't looking for a lifetime commitment. Nor was I at first."

"Oh," Sam faltered. She had never seen that part of Jack O'Neill, and it hurt to think he'd been with Kerry just for the sex. Not that plenty of men and women didn't engage in casual sex, sadly that was true. But this negative characteristic never seemed to be a part of Jack's makeup, but then she didn't know the real Jack O'Neill, did she?

"Sam?" Kerry said in a lowered tone, "I thought I explained before. Jack O'Neill is a true gentleman. Why we only recently became intimate. And as great as it was, the sex was a minute part of our relationship. He wanted someone to talk to and to hold. But it was never me that he wanted. My loss is your gain," Kerry said dejectedly.

She sensed Kerry's misgivings. Guilt-ridden, Sam realized that she had consistently sent similar unspoken messages of rejection to Pete. No wonder he wasn't surprised when she canceled their wedding today.

"Honestly, I should have jumped ship after our second date, but he's such a keeper. Do I need to list off the positives?"

"No," Sam softly responded. "It's a long list."

"Yes it is. Although there are some negatives. For one, Jack never opened up with me. And for someone in my profession I need to know all. Besides, I can watch just so much hockey and football games. And I don't like Gene Kelly movies or the Simpsons." The woman gave a body shudder.

A smile of understanding tugged Sam's lips. She wasn't about to admit she liked the Simpsons, let alone understood Jack's comparison between the Goa'uld and Mr. Burns. Jack still didn't know Sam got it. And her obsession with Gene Kelly movies, well that he got.

Kerry rattled on. "I recently offered to go fishing but he's never extended the invitation. That's when I knew our relationship was headed south. I'm a realist. I can't make Jack O'Neill happy, Sam. You can."

Two marines walked up and impatiently, but respectfully waited to board the elevator. Sam stepped aside and returned their salutes. As one marine chose a floor level, Sam addressed Kerry, "Thanks."

"Hey, you're welcome."Agent Johnson smiled and discreetly added, "Now go catch the best man I ever let slip through my fingers. Go fishing."

"I will." Sam watched the elevator door close then turned away. She was on the officers quarters level. General O'Neill's room was near her own. Setting her long legs in motion Sam decided it was now or never, but first things first. Sam needed to refresh her appearance and add a dab of perfume to seal the deal.

You better be the real deal, Grace, Sam said inside her head.

"I am," Grace giggled. "Now let's go fishing, mom."


	9. Chapter 9

Dear Readers, Sorry this fic is being dragged out, but so is my life. I appreciate your loyalty to reading and hope that in the end you'll believe it was worth the long wait.

Again, I look forward to reading and answering your reviews!

Now on with the music.

HailDorothy

FACE THE MUSIC

Part Nine

SGC - Daniel Jackson's Lab

Fresh dressed and with a calmer gut, Jack hurried into Doctor Daniel Jackson office and sealed its steel-cased security door behind him. Guilt nudged Jack. He shouldn't be here, snooping no less, but not enough guilt to warrant ending his search and rescue mission. Besides he was General O'Neill and could go wherever he darn well pleased.

Whenever Jack came here it felt as if he'd stepped into a time capsule. Daniel Jackson's office was an archeologist's dream and a scavenger hunter's nightmare. Jack recalled the last time Daniel ascended and how long it took Jack, Teal'c, Sam, and Doctor Fraiser to clean and organize the place. Actually, they'd never finished.

Glancing around the memorabilia of his best friend, Jack visited the other occasions when Daniel had supposedly died or ascended. The first time his team had been brainwashed by the creature from the black lagoon to believe that Daniel had burned to death in a volcanic eruption on P8X-362.

Later, when they realized they'd left Daniel behind, Sam had an emotional meltdown. Jack held on tight and comforted her as best he could. He'd unwittingly nuzzled the sweet skin of her neck and caressed her hair. Jack could still imagine her silky short locks slipping through his fingertips. It'd been an unguarded moment that went far deeper than sexual attraction. Had they not had an audience, Jack would have kissed away her tears. He'd have done anything for her. Still would. That had been one of many defining glimpses into their evolving relationship. Holding Samantha Carter and feeling her heart pound against his chest felt right—Too right. That's also when Jack realized the possessive claim Sam already had on his heart.

The week before that incident Sara had finally forgiven Jack for Charlie's death. However he and Sara's marriage was not salvageable. For one, Sara had never embraced Jack's military lifestyle and when she saw he'd been reinstated, she didn't conceal her disappointment. Clearly, she'd preferred the heart-on-his sleeve alien version of Jack O'Neill.

While debriefing Sara about the crystalline creature, he explained the importance of the Stargate Program without divulging the whole snake-in-the-head alien threat to the galaxy issue. His not sharing had always been a factor in their marital problems. Sara told him that the Air Force was a bigger part of him than she could ever be, and that was OK. She had always wanted his happiness first. And the selfish bastard he'd once been hadn't been able to sacrifice his career even for her and Charlie. When he did retire it was too late. His son was dead.

During their conversation Sara repeatedly brought up Captain Carter. Drilling for oil came to mind. Jack sensed the reason behind Sara's keen interest. Because like Carter Sara was brilliant. He did his best to not let Sara see the chemistry between himself and his first officer. He didn't want Sara to think they hadn't reconciled because of another woman. And a few months earlier that would have been true. As strongly attracted to Sam as he was back then, the idea of hooking up with any female, let alone his 2IC was not on Jack's to-do-list. He was too much of a head-case for a sane woman. Heck, if Sara didn't want him, who would? Certainly not, beautiful national treasure Samantha Carter.

And no one but Sara and their lawyers knew that the day after the crystalline incident, he signed the divorce papers Sara had served on him eight months prior. When he handed them to her, she didn't ask why now? Finalizing the death of their marriage brought closure for Jack. He'd always love Sara. They'd been good together, but she deserved someone better than he could ever be. And no matter what, they'd always be friends.

That afternoon, they discussed Charlie and cried together. Afterward, she shared that she'd met a wonderful broker who kept normal hours and didn't travel. Jack got the message. Odd, how he'd almost hoped she would ask him to stay the night. Had she, his trampled ego might have taken the plunge. But he would never forget that his loaded pistol killed their child. That after the first Abydos mission, finding the locks changed, and his luggage and Simpson videos stacked in their garage had destroyed any hope to fight like hell and win back what he'd lost, Sara O'Neill. She had made the choice for them. No, she'd never know. It was best that way.

Jack long surmised that the morning Captain Samantha Carter marched into the SGC briefing room and saluted him, he'd found purpose to his life, and not about just that of saving the world. Odd thing though, Sara knew after one brief meeting with Carter. Women were funny that way.

Four years later during a random encounter at the grocery store Sara revealed that weeks before she'd seen him and Carter at a trucker's café holding hands. Racking his brain for a plausible lie, Jack carted one of her grocery bags across the parking lot.

"Oh that." Was all he could spit out of his dry mouth, "See, we were on a covert operation and . . ."

"Jack, I'll never comprehend how you convince the bad guys that you're stupid, because when it come s to personal issues you're a terrible liar. So don't start now." She snickered.

"OK." He shrugged. "Glad you're not a bad guy." He wasn't smiling.

"Actually, I'm happy for you. Oh, I see Louis Ferretti now and then."

"Odd, he hasn't mentioned that." However, Jack would next time he saw the troublemaking major.

"According to Louis, Major Carter's still your 2IC." Disappointment laced her soft voice. "Jack, you're not a casual sex guy. And I never figured you'd break the non frat regs with another officer. For both your sakes don't ruin her career."

"It's not like that, Sara," he back peddled—literally. Something was stuck to the sole of his left running shoe. He shook the sneaker.

"Oh." She turned with her armful of groceries and looked him dead-on. Besides, Cassandra, only Sara and Samantha Carter had the knack to dent his steel fortitude with one look. "Which means what, Jack? You haven't shared her bed or haven't gotten caught trying?"

"No. Yes." He winced. "Neither. I'd never do anything to hurt Major Carter or her career. Besides, you, I respect Carter more than any woman I've ever known."

"Lack of respect was never your downfall, Jack. Your smart-alecky mouth and daredevil nature are different matters. So why haven't you changed units, bases . . .married her for heaven's sake?"

Jack lifted his sneaker to find a wad of gum stuck to its sole. That pretty much summed up his love life. "Look, Sara, it's sticky—I mean things are um complicated."

Sara's gaze followed to where he scrapped the gooey mess against the blacktop. She laughed. "I see. You can't decide to save the girl or save the world, or is it galaxies now?"

Jack cocked his head. He'd forgotten how smart she was and how much she knew.

Sara smiled supportively. "I can keep secrets, Jack. Had twelve years to practice remember?"

He nodded.

"Nice to know you've remained loyal to the greater cause. Want, but can't, and won't sleep with Sleeping Beauty. That I believe."

Jack got extremely warm, rubbed the back of his neck then blew out his mouth. "Don't make me into a saint, Sara. You know I hate heights and repeatedly fall off those damn high pedestals."

Sara gaped. "Somehow I don't think Major Carter sees you that way anymore."

"Anymore?" he arched his brows.

"Oh, I run into her here and there. I think she's lost the 'Colonel O'Neill is Rambo' complex that I saw the first time we met. But there's no doubt you're the cause for her sparkage, Jack. Why she lights up when ever we talk about you."

"You guys talk about me." His poker face dropped into place but not before a smile tugged his mouth.

"Whoa! You're fatally in love aren't you?" Sara gawked.

"Geez, Sara," he groaned, slipped his dark shades into place and looked at her new vehicle. Sara and a minivan had never seemed right. Unless?

"Good ol' Jack, still dodging the bullet about his feelings." She pressed the lock release of her ignition key. "Your inability to express yourself endures but didn't help our marriage. I hope she can live with the whole package better than I could. But with all you two have in common, it'd only make sense that she can live with the darker side of Jack O'Neill."

He wasn't insulted. Sara had always spoken her mind and he admired that. Again, he saw the parallels between Sara and Sam. He didn't like sexually overt women, but he did like them smart, confident and alluring.

"I'm not the same iron-assed S.O.B." He opened her van's rear door and set the bag on the floor.

"Well, there are some things about your ass I still admire." She winked suggestively.

"Are you hitting on me?" his voice bottomed out as he reprieved the other grocery bag and set it on the seat, then turned back to her.

"Nowadays that's all I can do." She tipped her blonde head toward her midsection. Jack's eyes bugged out.

"Oy! You—you're having a baby."

"Yep. Three months left." She turned her left hand upward revealing a platinum engagement and wedding band. "Married a year now. I sent you an invitation," she reminded.

Guilty, Jack nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. I was off wo—um, on duty." He squinted into the sun.

"Sure."

"Does he make you happy?"

"Yes." The brightness in her blue eyes and fair face made him envious, but not in a negative way. "He's a terrific attentive husband and I think he'll be a great father."

Old guilt pulled Jack down. "I'm glad, Sara. You always deserved more." His gaze rested on her swollen belly. Sara took his hand and rested it against her protruding sweater. The baby kicked hard.

"She's a girl," Sara shared.

"Cool." Jack recalled the first time he felt Charlie inside of his ex-wife. It'd been one of the most ecstatic moments of his life. That memory affected him deeply. He was glad Sara couldn't see his wet eyes. He let go, stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and cleared his throat. _Time to head for the hills, old man._ "Well, gotta go." He turned away, but she tugged his jacket sleeve.

"Jack, I'm sorry that you still doubt yourself. Perhaps, if I'd told you back then . . ."

"Told me what?" he looked over his shoulder and saw that her blue eyes were moist.

"That Charlie loved and respected you more than you'll ever know. That as angry as he was the day you took away his water pistol, he knew that you loved him. And that you had disciplined him to show how guns were not toys."

"He told you this?" Jack gave her an incredulous look.

"Yep. And later I realized that when he took your gun from our bedroom closet, it wasn't out of defiance. He just wanted to imitate who he hoped to be when he grew up. You, Jack. His death wasn't your fault. It was an accident. I should have told you, but I was angry. Now forgive yourself, because I have."

Jack found it hard to breath. "Trying. It's just not that easy. . ."

Sara brought a warm palm up against his blue-shadowed jaw. "I know." Sara slipped off his sunglasses and looked into his wet eyes. "Be honest, things were rough between us before Charlie died. We made mistakes and were both selfish, not being as giving as we should have been to each other. I'm not saying we wouldn't have stayed together, and yet we might have eventually divorced. I can't imagine what that would have done to Charlie."

"Me either," he admitted shamefully.

"Jack, please don't blame our failed marriage on an accident that took our son's life, and don't blame yourself. Remember I'm the one who kicked you out and served the papers. It was my choice, Jack. A choice I've regretted for a very long time."

"I should have fought for you," he said honestly.

"Yes, you should have."

Jack pulled her into his arms and held her close. It was a good hug, a forgiving hug. Far better than the last one they'd shared at the hospital with SG-1 as an audience. A moment of accepted loss passed between them before they stepped apart.

"Jack, we can't undo the past. But we can move forward." She placed her hands on her tummy, then smiled. "I'm no kid anymore. God's given me another chance to be a mom. You were the best husband and father you could be then. And you'll be even better the second time around. You deserve another opportunity at happiness. Besides, I really like Samantha." She climbed into the minivan.

"You two are on a first name basis?" Jack realized his mouth was open—again.

"Of course." She winked. "Didn't she tell you that we belong to the same gym?"

"No. Musta skipped her mind." Carter was so dead!

"Now don't be a jackass. An don't let her slip through your fingers." Sara started up the blue minivan and drove out of his life. He'd not seen her since. But her last words still nagged him.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Jack was determined not to give up Samantha Carter without a fight. He refocused on his task at hand. Where would Daniel hide something of value, something he wanted Jack to find or not find? Daniel loved to play hide and seek. However, Jack was not in the mood for games.

"How'z about showing yourself, Twinkle Toes?" Jack addressed the empty room. "No, huh?" He snorted. "Geez, Daniel, if you didn't translate the damn thing into English, you're getting coal in your Christmas stocking." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, wait? You like coal. So I'll gift wrap my Simpson collection for you." He smirked.

Something tickled his nose. "Akchew!"

Jack walked to the cluttered work center and flipped through musty books, and next a pile of manuscripts and scrolls. When the dust hit Jack's nose, he sneezed and slammed a book shut with a grunt of provocation. "I could blow here any moment, Danny."

Not a peep.

He continued to rummage about the cluttered office, picking up one artifact after another and not gently. "Bet ya'd show if I dropped something o' value, huh? Oh, that's right. Everything in here is valuable." Jack lifted a fragile Chinese statuette and dangled it between two fingers. "Going once, going twice . . . gone!" He dropped the statue. The antique came within an inch of shattering on the floor before Jack scooped it up with his other hand.

"Crap." He rose slower than he'd lowered. Jack rubbed his tensed back muscles and flexed his stiff right knee. Still no Daniel to the rescue, but papers rustled and not from the central air.

"I saw that!" Jack replaced the statue on a shelf. "Look, I don't have time for this, Daniel, nor do you. I'm trying to find a needle in a haystack that has nothing to do with saving the fricking world--again." Jack waited five seconds then announced, "OK. I am one selfish bastard, who's willing to put the love of a woman above all else? Happy are we?"

Notthing.

"Fine. Be a crocked stick in the mud. I'll find it myself." Jack returned to rutting through Daniel's treasures.

About to have the big one, Jack slammed his fist on the desk and bellowed, "C'mon, Danny, give me a clue wilya?" He opened one drawer, then the next and came up empty handed. Pissed, he glanced at his watch and muttered, "Sorry, time's up." He headed by the work center for the door.

The laptop screen flickered.

"Sweet!" Jack pressed the on switch, entered Daniel's user code then his own. Daniel's regular folders popped open with documents on the Goa'uld, Replicators and Ancients. Jack opened several files but didn't find what he needed.

"Oh, fercrying outloud!" Suddenly, he remembered and typed P3X-959 or was it 595?

A warning appeared on the screen: 'Jack, As Sam would say, I made allowances for your memory drift, sir. It's P3X-595.'

"Thanks. I think." He snickered.

Another warning: 'Jack, if you open this up there's no turning back.'

"Dang it, Daniel, I know." Jack stubbornly hit enter.

A third message popped up: 'Well it's about time! The original document is inside the front cover of the 'Bible' second bookshelf from the top, upper left corner. Jack, do with it what you will, but if you don't tell Sam the truth before she marries Pete Shanahan, you'll never get another birthday present from me. I'm serious. Daniel.'

"Me too." Jack turned off the pc and hurried to the bookshelf. He snatched and opened the King James Bible, pulled back the leather binding, eased out the yellow parchment and carefully unfurled it. His eyes scanned the alien document and then a second page with Daniel's English translation. Nothing had changed in eight years. Yeah sure ya betcha!

The speed of his heart matching that of a Kentucky Derby race horse, Jack pocketed the documents and hauled ass out of the office. A few feet ahead, Daniel materialized. Jack walked right through him without a hello.

"Hey," Daniel yelled. "That third dynasty Ming statuette was priceless!"

"So's my aching back, Space Monkey." Jack stalked off with a noticeable hitch to his gettyup.

Daniel smiled and was about to respond when Oma Desala yanked him back to the diner in the sky. Unbeknown to her Daniel had no plans to re-ascend. If he was dead, so be it. He'd rather spend eternity with God Almighty. But first, he had a few matters to straighten out. He'd done all he could to help Sam and Jack. The last order of business was to figure out the creepy connection between Oma, Jim and Anubis. And just maybe, he could help SG-1 save the world one last time.

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Walter's voice crackled over the base intercom, "General O'Neill, you are needed in the control room ASAP."

Hoofing it down the busy hallway Jack passed an open elevator—_Hey, is that Carter and Kerry Johnson together—alone? _

Jack backtracked and looked inside. Oh, shit!

Sam stood in the rear of the lift with her eyes closed. She looked exhausted.

Kerry on the other hand looked happy—too happy. Spotting Jack, she smiled and winked.

No! He flagged her to not shut the door, but she deliberately pressed the close key and smiled over at him as the door closed. Frantic, Jack punched the outside buttons to no avail. Deflated, he slumped against the elevator's steel frame and rubbed the deepening furrow between his brows. There was a train-wreck in the making and it was his fault.

"General O'Neill?" Harriman cleared his throat.

Jack looked over to encounter his assistant's impatient expression.

"There better be barbarians at the gate," Jack grumbled as he straightened and tugged the front hem of his BDU shirt.

"Not yet, General. President Hayes called and, he's not happy."

"That makes four unhappy campers in this zoo, Walter." Jack glance at the elevators then stalked toward his office. For some reason he found himself staring at Walter's head. "You're totally gray, Walter."

"As are you, sir." Walter said respectfully.

"Yeah, I recall a time when we weren't. And hey, didn't you have more hair?" Jack wiggled his fingers at Walter's buzzed head.

"I did." Walter glanced up at his commander and sighed. "At least you still have yours, sir."

Jack trailed his hand through his military cut. Several fine strands padded his palm. Stress no doubt. With his concern on Carter, he confessed, "There are worse things to lose than your hair, Walter."

To Jack's surprise Walter said with a revealing look, "Sometimes, sir, we must lose what's most important to us before we realize it was ever lost, then fight like hell to win it back."

"Ah." Jack stared wide-eyed at the astute man. "If I never mentioned it before, you have a knack for delivering sound advice."

"You have, sir."

"I have?" Jack's brows shot into his hairline.

"Yes." Walter shook his balding head and grinned. "But thank you again, General."

"No, Walter, thank you." Jack patted the alien document in his pocket and prayed that it wasn't too late to fight for what he'd lost.

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Almost the end . . . not quite . . .


	10. Chapter 10

**Dear Readers: Grave family issues have prevented me from writing and posting. I appreciate your steadfast loyalty to this story and any others that await completion. I will wrap them up as time allows. Here's one more chapter of Jack facing the music. Enjoy! And please offer a review. Feedback feeds my muse. Thanks, HailDorothy  
**

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Facing the Music – Chapter 10

SGC – Jack's Office

"You wanted to see me, General?" Master Sergeant Siler's skyscraper frame shadowed the entryway of Jack's inner sanctum.

Jack waved the enlisted man inside and continued signing supply requisitions while muttering about lost poop trails. His attention rested on a letter from Richard Woolsey that demanded Jack provide separate VIP quarters for the British and Russian I.O.C.'s delegates during next week's S.G.C. inspection. Apparently, the bunk-beds and fruit basket they'd shared on the last visit hadn't been a slam-dunk. Oh. Well. Jack planned to correct that international boo-boo. Woolsey's new roommate, the Chinese diplomat. Cool.

"Oops." He scrunched the paperwork into a ball and highfived it into the wastebasket. "And he scores."

Meanwhile, Siler maneuvered an underhanded retreat.

"Na-ah." Not missing a beat Jack stopped the coward in his tracks. Jack smiled when his boots made contact with the specimen box alongside the desk.

Siler held the doorknob as if it were a life preserver. "Colonel Carter's expecting me to finish coding the new Alpha site's G.D.O. shipment and—."

"Cracker Jack decoder rings are the last thing on Colonel Carter's mind."

"You're no doubt right, sir." Siler nervously agreed.

"They say that you know. . ."

"Sir?" Siler looked puzzled.

"That I'm right." Jack's right brow trekked into his silver hairline. "Seven out of ten is way above the norm for plan A, according to Carter that is. Then again, there's always plan B to fall back on. Ah, I just love strategic planning don't you?"

Three fries short of happy meal, the sergeant bobbed his head yes while his crossed eyes said no.

Jack folded his left BDU sleeve up his forearm to match the opposite sleeve. He eyeballed the antsy man, who was clearly calculating a plan B of escape. Were Jack not pissed off, this would be as entertaining as a Simpson marathon. Still, fun was in the eye of the beholder right? So was that perspiration on the man's upper lip? Yep. Times like these, Jack loved being the_ man_.

'C'mon in, Sly." Jack's ironed out mouth revealed his grim reaper state of mind. The engineer toyed with his safety glasses then admired the dull shine of his boots. Guilty as charged, Jack mused.

"I um, don't suppose this can wait, sir?"

"Nope. 'Sides, you're always one up on this _man_." Jack snapped a folder shut and gestured to a chair. "Take a load off your dogs, Siler. And if ya'd like I can order coffee, tea," a beat followed, "elevator music, aye?" Jack winked.

"Oh, shit." Siler mouthed.

"Excuse me."

"Um, sorry, General, It's just well, I forgot something . . ." He ran a fingertip between his throat and BDU collar.

"Really? Nothing security wise, nothing that I, the great all powerful Oz, should be aware of, right?"

Siler got that fish out of water look. Bass and Walleye came to Jack's mind.

"Thought not. Now sit."

"Yes, sir." Siler dropped into the hard chair then squirmed like a man on the hot seat.

"So," Jack said in his sweeter than molasses tone. "The base grapevine has it that one of our elevators got hung up earlier."

"Oh, that." Siler cleared his throat. "It err umm was down a few minutes, but is running smooth now."

Jack leaned into the high backed chair. He had Siler in his crosshairs. Sweet. "Did I ever tell you about that time on PX-719-er when I got captured by the Goa'uld and tortured?"

"Yes. I mean no." Siler's brown eyes clouded with denser confusion. "I don't recall that specific mission, sir."

"Right." Jack snapped his fingers. "Forgot, General Hammond triple-classified that nasty Op. Fortunately, Carter brought back a live specimen."

"Live?" The sergeant straightened.

"Live and kicking. Doc Lee gave me the little critter." Jack lifted the specimen case and perched it on his desktop. One could just distinguish through the tinted glass case an oblong object of about ten inches. "Gotta keep this thingy in the dark to keep it dormant." Jack did a body shudder. "Took me five years before I'd come this close to a sperm slug."

"Sperm slug?" Siler's jaw unhinged.

"Yeah, Carter and Lee gave it some fancy Latin name, but it's a giant green slug with two inch fangs that latches onto your short hairs and, then . . ." Jack mimed the act with his hands.

Siler's complexion turned the shade of sheet rock. "Oh, please, sir, I just ate." He protectively covered his genitals.

"Ah, yes. Even more reason you'll appreciate my precarious situation. This little bugger almost made me sing soprano. Ya see each time it'd sink its fangs into my . . ."

"What-what do you want, General, sir?" Was Siler pleading? Nice.

Donning his Special Forces facade Jack inched the case forward. "Tell me who jerry-rigged the southwest corridor number 3 elevator with Agent Johnson and Colonel Carter on board—alone."

"J-Jerry rigged, sir?"

"Yep, but Carter would label the job as a_ MacGyver._" Jack launched from his chair, picked up the specimen case and dangled it over the enlisted man's lap.

Siler's terrified gaze remained glued to the case. "Sir, I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to mislead."

"I believe the correct word's deceive, General." Siler put his hands between the case and his privates.

"Mere _spermantics_." He lowered the case closer to Siler's crotch. "So did ya pull one over on your old _man_, Siler?"

"No! Never, sir." Siler coughed and avoided Jack's lethal expression.

"Did I mention that the sperm slug can only reproduce inside a man's testacies?"

"Holy crap!"

"Oh, and inside _there_ too." Jack winked and put a finger on the case's single latch. "The only safe way to handle this little nut cracker is to grab its tail and—."

"Shit." Siler pulled away.

Jack took pity and returned the case to the desk then walked back to his relieved subordinate. Jack strategically switched gears. "So, Sly, I understand that you _love_," he made quote marks with his fingers, "the tuna and cabbage special."

"Huh?" Siler's jaw re-dislocated as he came full circle. "Actually I hate tuna, sir, and I'm allergic to cabbage. I break out in itchy hives and . . ."

"Spare me the itching niceties. I read Doc Fraiser's medical report. So if you're fibbing you'll be eating the tuna cabbage special the next two weeks. I'll make sure you've plenty of calamine lotion."

"You-you wouldn't, sir?"

"I would. Or might you prefer to encounter this man-sac-eating slug?"Jack grinned wickedly.

"With all due respect neither, sir."

"Don'cha love when plan A comes together?" Jack scrubbed his palms then pressed the desk intercom. "Walter, my office now!"

"Yes, sir."

"No!" Siler turned greener around the gills.

"Oh, yes." Jack surmised the cabbage was not going down well, or maybe the slug.

Wary looking, Walter entered the office. When he met Jack's cocky look then Siler's sickly expression, Harriman broke down. "Sorry, Siler, I'd no choice. He sweet-talked me with compliments about my hair and how wise and astute I am."

Jack grinned. "But you are, Walter."

Harriman held Siler's grimace. "Apparently, not astute enough to know when you're yanking my chain, sir."

"Well there's that." Jack smugly acknowledged.

"You didn't get threatened with a fanged sperm slug and tuna cabbage casserole?" Siler gaped at Walter.

"No—Wow. The tuna cabbage casserole threat!" Walter fist punched his stomach. "You didn't, sir?" He gave Jack a stunned glance.

"I did." Jack smiled, leaned on his desktop and patted the specimen box.

"So what'd you spill?" Siler grimaced at his co conspirator.

"Well, I um-err." Walter looked anxiously over at Jack.

"Come clean, son," Jack ordered.

"Okay." Harriman's slumped in defeat and addressed Siler. "The General brought me a huge slice of triple chocolate cake with coffee and three creams, just the way I like it. Before I knew what happened I couldn't shut up. But, I didn't tell him everything, I swear."

"Sergeant Siler?" Jack growled slow and low.

"Please, sir," Siler bounced to his feet, explaining. "She's CIA. I mean were talking '_Lethal Weapon_' martial arts. And there was her promise of President's Haye's autographed photo for my kids."

"Heck, I could getcha one of them." Jack snorted.

"I mentioned that, but Agent Johnson sees the President on a regular basis. And she swore there'd be no repercussions on your end as she was doing you a favor by talking to Colonel Carter."

"A favor?" Jack imagined the worst.

"Yes sir." Walter interceded. "That she would tell Colonel Carter how much you cared for. . ." The sergeant coughed and looked at the opposite gray wall. The master sergeants stood supportive beside each other. Jack wouldn't have been surprised if they held hands.

"Crap!"

"Sir?" Walter scratched his balding gray head. "I assure you, that whatever unorthodox method we employed was in the best interests of you and the colonel."

"Unorthodox you say? I'm the king of unorthodox! So if you men don't come clean, my right foot's going to be so far up your asses that your hemorrhoids will have hemorrhoids! Understood?"

"Yes sir!" They snapped to attention and saluted.

"Stop that!" Jack scrubbed his face. "Whoever's got the elevator's security DVD give it up."

The enlisted men exchanged panicked looks.

Siler confessed, "Neither, sir. Agent Johnson has the DVD. Actually, she dismantled the camera and—."

"Oh fer crying outloud!"

"My exact sentiments." Walter glowered at Siler. "I can't believe you didn't make a copy."

"That's because you said, 'I'm on it, Sly,'" the taller man whined. "I was busy stopping and starting the elevator. "Recording the security tape was your job."

"Sergeant Harriman. Sergeant Siler," Jack said in his calm '_you're so dead'_ tone. "Get me that fricking evidence and," his voice bottomed out, "Report to the mess hall for cabbage shredding duty. Dismissed!"

Obviously relieved their reprimand hadn't been more severe, Siler and Walter saluted their CO. A rap on the door served a diversion from Jack's wrathful glint. He spotted the intruder first.

"Hey, Doctor Lee." Jack took the floor in quick strides, strategically buffering Lee from his subordinates. Emanate panic attack. _Don't let them see you sweat._ _You, Jack, are the man! _

"Hi, guys, General O'Neill." Doctor Lee poked his bowling ball cranial into the office.

"Whatsup?" Jack unconsciously grimaced.

"Forgive my interruption, sir, but I've been looking for that," he pointed past Jack to the specimen box.

"Oh, sure." Jack back stepped. "All yours, Bill." Jack gave over the tinted container and motioned to escort the scientist out the door.

"So are its fangs really two inches long?" Siler inquired.

His hands planted on the shorter man's shoulders, Jack shoved the scientist toward the hallway.

"What?" Doctor Lee glanced back.

"Don't mind him, Doc." Jack glared the curious sergeant down. "Siler, I believe you have cabbage to shred, tuna cans to open, yada, yada." Jack directed traffic with his hands.

Siler and Walter exchanged suspicious glances.

Bill Lee halted, unlocked the case's latch and reached inside.

Siler and Walter back stepped toward Jack's desk.

Bill Lee extracted the long floppy object. The aroma of fresh Italian bread, green peppers, salami and cheese wafted on the air. Walter and Siler groaned relief then exchanged exasperated looks. They'd been had.

Bill never noticed. "Sir, next time you need something from my lab, please check with me? I keep my lunch in this case. Today I brought a sub with—."

Jack slammed the door shut on the yapping scientist. Confidently the_ man_ tugged his BDU shirt's hem and engaged the flabbergasted expressions of his hoodwinked sergeants. Strutting past them to his desk, Jack snorted. "So, guys, wanna hear plan B?"

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Despite his disappointment with Walter and Siler's flagrant insubordination, Jack admired their romantic loyalty. If he wasn't their CO he'd buy them each a whiskey on downtime. _Let's face it, O'Neill, they're good men, your men._ Hell, if there were any chance for him and Carter he'd buy the entire SGC a round of drinks at O'Malley's.

The ringer of Jack's phone shattered his musings. Probably Cassandra. "Look, Sunshine, ya know I love you, but what is it about the word '_no_' that you don't understand?"

"Well, I um—"

"Kerry?"

"Yes."

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else?"

"There's another woman besides Colonel Carter?" she asked cheekily.

"My niece Cassandra Fraiser." Jack's headache returned full throttle.

"Oh. Is she alright?"

"Whatcha want, Kerry?" Jack tried to be civil.

"To know you're okay?"

"Just peachy. Any other asinine questions?"

"You're mad."

"Do'h!"

"Don't you want to know what is on the security DVD?"

"Not really. Now if you'll excuse me I've burnt bridges to mend." He motioned to hang up.

"With Colonel Carter, I hope." She didn't miss a beat.

Jack made a face and returned the receiver to his ear. "You know, Agent Johnson, I could hang your pretty ass out to dry."

"That did cross my mind. But then, I've always been expendable, Jack."

Talk about a low but honest blow. "Apparently so's your career."

"A chance I was willing to take."

"Don't test me, Kerry. You engaged two enlisted men to dismantle government property, not to mention that you singled-out and videotaped the distraught commanding officer of my flagship team, who's just lost her father!"

"You never got that worked-up over us. Gosh, you really are in love with her."

Trying to collect his detonated nerves, Jack blew out between his lips. "Good bye, Agent Johnson."

"Wait! I mailed the one and only copy to your home address. At least, watch the video before you burn it. I know that you regret what happened between us, Jack. I don't. Because of you and Colonel Carter, I know how wonderfully messed up real love is supposed to be. You never relaxed around me, Jack, never let down your guard. Never let me see what you let Samantha see, the real Jack O'Neill."

About to dispute that remark, Jack opened his mouth then he went brain dead. He'd thought he'd been open with Kerry, apparently not.

Painful silence passed before she sighed and said, "I personally think, Colonel Carter would be a fool to walk away from what you two have together. And if you don't already know, she's still crazy in love with you."

"Oh, yeah?" Jack felt a smile yank his mouth to the left.

"Yeah, Jack." She laughed softly. "Have a good life, General O'Neill."

"Sure. You too, Agent Johnson." The phone clicked dead. Jack stared at the receiver in his unsteady hand then hung up. Hey, if Sam was still crazy over him, why had she almost married Petro?

The telephone shrilled--again. "Oh, fer crying out loud," he barked into the receiver.

"Uncle Jack?" Cassandra's shaken voice came back to him.

"Oy! Hi, Sunshine," his tone softened. "Sorry, I thought you were someone else. How ya doing?"

"I'm not." Cassandra sobbed. "I want to be with you and Sam. . . ."

"I know and we'd like nothing better but—." Jack shut his tired eyes, slumped into his chair and listened with steadfast patience and love that he only reserved for Cassandra Fraiser and Samantha Carter.

Massaging the deep furrow of his brow, Jack swore that a marching band was playing, _Whiskey for My Men and Beer for My Horses _inside of his skull. As luck had it, the percussion section drowned out everything, including Willy Nelson's ever so oh, gravelly voice.

Facing the music sucked!


	11. Chapter 11

Dear Readers, I've taken a break from real life. I hope most of you are still hanging on with this story, and that you enjoy the Crescendo to: 'Face the Music' with an epilogue to follow.

Fair warning: This is a long chapter, but a scene break was almost impossible.

And lastly, your feedback will make this writer a happy camper. No beta this time, so mistakes and typos are my sole responsibility and I apologize in advance. Thanks for your generous reviews, and supporting Jack's and Sam's forever and for always endless love.

God Speed, HailDorothy

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**Face the Music**

**Chapter 11 'Crescendo'**

Jack was exhausted—burnt out–running on empty and felt as old as dirt. He'd finally gotten off the phone with Cassandra who'd debated at least twenty different reasons why he should allow her on the base. Jack hated being an ass. Then again, he'd been doing a pretty fair job of filling that hole, so why not with his favorite girl. Without sharing that Anubis was about to invade earth, or that the entire mountain could go to self destruct mode any moment, he'd told Cass no way in Netu. When she'd hung up crying, he'd almost sent an airwoman to retrieve her. If the world was about to end, he wanted to be with the people he loved and Cass was at the top of that list.

But as CO he had no right to endanger a civilian's life even if she was Canadian. Jack had thought the Canadian line funny. Cassandra hadn't. Now, he'd no choice but to order Carter home to console the girl. And that meant he and Sam would have to delay their out of the closet conversation. Not to mention the block buster premiere of another Anubis invasion threatening to arrive in the nearest galaxy near you. . . Just where in this fricking universe was God hiding? The coward!

And last but not least, he wanted to know what had happened between Carter and Kerry. Now he'd have to wait until he got his snail mail, although it'd help if he lived long enough. Maybe he should just outright ask Carter. Because she probably assumed that he put Kerry up to that underhanded stunt. If he hadn't so much emotionally baggage invested he might have . . . _Stop that!_ He castigated himself or was that castrated. Same thing.

Jack pondered Carter's whereabouts. Hands shoved in his pockets, head lowered, he limped down the hollow corridor and collided with something solid, yet softly familiar.

"Carter?" He snatched her by the shoulders. They regained their footing but Jack held on. Why not, he mused.

"General?"

Sam glanced to where he cupped her upper arms. He let go and coughed into his right hand. "Um, hey, I was just coming to see you, Colonel," he explained searching her freshly made face that included mascara and eye shadow. Wow, was that perfume he sniffed? Nice.

"And I was on my way to see you, sir."

"Funny." He felt like a teen with his first crush and shoved antsy fingers into his front pockets.

"Yeah." She looked down.

_Why's she staring at her boots? Oh, nice polish job, Carter. _"So, I talked to Cass."

"And?" She tilted her flaxen head until azure eyes engaged brown.

"She's madder than a Russian that I won't let her on base. Under the circumstances, I can't."

"I know."

"But she shouldn't be alone. Neither should you. And since nothing of cosmic proportions is happening that I can't handle I'm ordering you home. Got a driver topside," he said in his _kick-ass-don't-question-me_ tenor.

"Yes, sir. I'll get my stuff." She walked away.

"Just like that?" his voice bottomed out.

Sam turned, met his incredulous expression and smiled wearily. "Yes sir. This is Cassie we're talking about. First Janet, Daniel and now Dad. It's amazing that she's functioning at all. Besides, I need to be with her for both our sakes."

"Ah. I mean, good, because that's where you should be—with Cassie." He hedged a strained smile and glanced around the empty corridor. Where was everyone? He looked at his watch. Wow, twenty-three-hundred hours. Shift change. He'd been here eighteen hours, Carter even longer. "Go home." He waved.

"I will. But before I go, did you see Doctor Lam?"

"Yes. No. I've been avoiding Doctor Francinestein."

"Sir?" Sam presented that annoyed head shake reserved for him. "She's an accomplished, brilliant physician."

"She's a civi, Carter, and far more tricky than Janet. I swear that Lam dreams up ways to torment me with enemas and humongous needles." He stretched out his arms.

"That's what MD's do." Sam teased.

"She wants to give you enemas too?" He scrunched his face and shuddered.

Sam rolled her gray-blues. Her glossed lips twitched and tugged upward. Good, another smile. "Sir, you didn't answer."

"Oh, me? Hey, I'm right as rain. Good to go. Healthy as a horse. Just gas." He pounded his chest and belched. "See?"

"Those refried beans were bad."

"Bad you say?" He held up a hand and counted off, contorting his face with each additional definition. "Bad as in botched, rotten, foul, spoiled, botulism, yada, yada?"

"Yes." Sam laughed and her puffy eyes shimmered.

"And I didn't know that why?" did he sound wounded? That was the plan.

"Because you were indisposed."

"Ah, that." Heat swept up his face. "Cat napped. I'm no kid anymore."

"If you say so, sir."

"I do," he stated emphatically knowing she saw right through him. Or was that smelled right through him?

Sam located a spot on the fire-alarm unit of the concrete wall behind him. He realized they shared the same unease. After all, they had a closet to clean.

"General, Colonel Reynolds left a message on your voicemail. And Doctor Lam placed her report on your desk. She said that I'm to warn you that you're on her needle list."

Jack rocked on his heels. "Warning duly noted, Colonel."

"Good. Anything else, sir?" She left their door open and he jumped in with both feet.

"Yeah," he flagged a hand. "Before you leave um, thought we might talk."

"OK." She didn't resist when he discreetly piloted her toward their private quarters and their tension level eased into minus zero just like old times.

"How're ya doing?" He glanced at her with naked concern. Makeup or not, she looked tough, but he wasn't about to go there. Nope. He valued life too much. Besides Carter could look and smell like a dead fish and he'd love her.

"Honestly, sir, this hasn't been my best day."

"Mine either," he confessed. "Remind me to write up a new Plan B against Anubis."

"Plan B?" She cocked her eyes his direction.

"Yeah, to force-feed those bad beans to Anubis' super soldiers, or even better the tuna cabbage casserole."

"I thought you banned that casserole from the menu."

"Yeah, funny thing, apparently Siler and Harriman '_luv'_ the fishy dish."

"Really?" The upward tug of her mouth said he'd fibbed. "I should go," she made an awkward gesture and yawned.

That gave Jack an idea. "You won't be much good to Cass this way." His arms mimicked a windmill. "I mean maybe you should rest, sleep, and catch some zzzs on base. I'll put the driver on standby."

"Is my staying base-side an order, sir?" Sam backhanded another yawn as they closed in on the door to her quarters.

"I can make it one."

"I look that bad?" Her soft brow puckered.

"Considering the crappy hand you've been dealt you look fantastic, Carter," he said with a straight face.

"Whenever you lie your scarred eyebrow twitches."

"It does?" He fingered the traitorous brow.

"No. But thanks for trying to make me feel better, sir."

"Think nothing of it." This woman had him hook, line and sinker. He was sinking fast.

"Well, nice as our chat's been, sir, along with your concern for my beauty sleep I. . . "

"What?"

"I want to confer with Walter. . ." She patted her pockets for her security pass.

"No need. Zero smoke signals from Teal'c about the Jaffa council's decision." He couldn't conceal his doom and gloom look.

"Sorry." Her slender shoulders slumped.

"Don't be. Just feels like the calm before the perverse storm." He licked his pointer finger and raised it in the stale air. "Whether fair or foul we'll weather through. Always do." Carter looked as if she expected him to pull a rabbit out of his butt. Well there was the one time . . . "Not buying it, uh?"

"No, sir. Something bad is about to go down." She hugged her arms across her breasts—er chest.

"Fine. All hell's about to break loose and there's not a flipping thing we can do except wait for the dam to crack and then go all glowy like Daniel."

Her mouth dipped.

"I didn't mean it that way." His hands directed traffic.

"I know." Her eyes glimmered and his heart tugged. "You still think he's alive?"

"We've been down this yellow brick road before, Carter. Daniel has a gift of popping out of the blue sky when we least expect him." He looked expectantly around them. Nothing.

"I hope you're right, sir." Sam donned that longing look for their best friend.

"I am. He's just revisiting Oz again." That won him a smile. "So?" He glanced at the vacant corridor. He should report to the control room, finish paper work, meet with SG-6, but for once in his life, duty would wait.

"So?" she asked apprehensively.

"Mind if I tuck ya in?" he asked gently and sincerely. "As a platonic friend," he quickly covered while his voice bottomed out, "who cares. . ."

Sam's bloodshot eyes swelled with moisture. "Thanks, sir. I'd like that very much."

"Sweet." He rubbed the back of his neck. "If you wanna talk about Dad, Mark, the funeral arrangements or anything else I'm here for you. Always."

"I'd rather not talk about that now, sir." She backhanded her leaky nose.

"Or cry on my wide comfy shoulder?" He pulled a tissue from his BDU pocket and dabbed her face, then her nose. Blowing into the tissue Sam leaned into his touch. Jack's heart crumbled. If it were possible he'd move back time to save Jacob. If only.

Sam took the soiled tissue, "I'd like that," and glanced about the corridor. "But not here." She stiffened her spine like the brave solider she was, and turned when two officers strolled by.

Jack addressed the saluting officers then waited while Sam swiped her security card. He followed, shut the door after them and summoned his poise that was ducking for cover. Wanting a life with his subordinate Jack patted the pocket of his BDU jacket. He'd no idea if the scrap of paper would mean a hell of beans to her but to Jack, it meant everything.

Shoulders sagging Sam shuffled to her bed. Sitting down, she glanced across the room to where Jack stood by the door. He felt like a fish out of water. Now what? As if Sam knew his thoughts she put out her hand. His heart rapid fired. Oy! The next moment they were seated on the bed holding hands. Sensing the oncoming storm he mentally and emotionally mapped out a disaster recovery plan.

Sam's body trembled then shook hard. Rivers of tears streamed down her pale freckled cheeks. Clutching the front of his BDU, she pressed her face against his chest. Jack rubbed her quaking back in soothing motions.

"I—I can't imagine life without him. Even when at odds, he was there for me. And after he and Selmak blended, he always returned home. Even to die. All those times that I misunderstood his motives and treated him badly, he loved me unconditionally."

"Hush." Jack caressed her hair. "I never doubted how much you two loved each other. General Carter respected Colonel Carter the officer, but Jake loved his daughter Samantha."

"I know. Oh, sir, I miss him already. Right until his last breath . . . he wanted my happiness." Sam sobbed and burrowed against Jack's shirt, her hands clutching his shoulders as she shattered in his arms. Jack embraced her and spoke soothing words of comfort. It'd been so long since they'd been like this that he feared to open his eyes.

"Let it out, Babe. I'm here for you. I'll always be here. Jake was a good man. I miss him too. That's right, go ahead and cry."

She did. Her tear-fall soaked his BDU and black tee. When the moist heat reached his skin Jack felt more intimately connected than ever to Samantha. Ten minutes passed before she stopped bawling and her breathing turned semi-normal. Without speaking, Sam blew her nose then stood and entered the bathroom closing the door behind her.

Jack took advantage of her absence and used the phone. He called Walter and told him to keep the driver on standby and then he dialed Hammond's cell phone. Jack spoke quietly, ". . . I appreciate that, George. Cassandra will be tickled if you show. And if you'd explain Sam's holdup I'll appreciate it."

George agreed then talked business.

Jack answered. "Yeah, still on lock down. I think Anubis is taking a siesta. Soon as Carter's rested I'll send her home. I know she'll not go quietly, but she will go. Yes, you've my word. Thanks, General…um, George. Yeah sure yabetcha. Later."

The toilet flushed. Sink water ran. Jack pulled back the crisp clean bedding, fluffed her pillow and waited. He spied himself in her full length mirror and tried to uncrumple his rumpled uniform. A dark blotch stained his left shoulder and front button holes. He'd wear these tears with pride. Per usual, his silvery hair saluted back. When he combed the misbehaving hairs into place they sprung back. Jack surrendered to another bad hair day.

Patting his six-pack he sucked in his softening gut. Dang donuts. He leaned closer into the mirror and scratched the day worth stubble. On cue, he blew into his palm, inhaled, and gagged! Digging into his pocket he found an abused wrapper of breath mints and popped one. And that's when he realized he wasn't alone.

His brainy scientist had purposely ambushed his self-indulgent moment. Reflected in the mirror behind him Sam stood cocooned in a bulky, white cotton bathrobe that 4 star hotels provided. Her bare feet and hands looked exceptionally small for her frame and height. Her short blond hair had been dampened and combed back from her heart-shaped pale face. He wondered if she was naked?

"Carter?"

"Sir?" Amusement sparkled in her eyes.

Dually caught in the act he tugged his shirt tails. "I-uh was checking for bugs. Never can be too safe ya know."

"You bugged my quarters?" Sam accused non-accusatory.

"No! Never!" He avoided her entertained scrutiny. Jack counted ceiling tiles. Why'd he feel guilty? He never bugged her quarters. Oh, there was that time when the SGC curtailed her house with that Ancient Orlin but that she knew. Okay, maybe she didn't know Jack had watched every video tape, including when she'd slept. She had been so hot when curled in a fetal position hugging a pillow. She snored and drooled like the best of them. No, safer to not mention that. . .

"Never?" she shattered his skip down memory lane. Even with her fair complexion scrubbed free of makeup and the runaway mascara, she was breathtakingly vulnerable. Her puffy eyes and cherry tipped nose showed fatigue and something else.

"What?" He sniffed.

"You called me Babe before, sir," she said walking toward him.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Not." He argued.

"Did. Um, sir?" Sam shook her head, "I miss Daniel too."

"Oy." He flinched realizing why their exchange felt nice but odd. "Fine, Carter. I confess that I called you 'Babe.' And I'm sorta sorry—"

"Don't be." She smiled warmly.

"Okay. I'm not."

Sam wobbled. Jack hurried to support her, but she stayed upright and made an observant sweep of her room. "Um, you unmade my bed."

"Yeah. And I'm not apologizing. Now grab some shuteye. That's an order, Colonel." He smiled none too seriously.

"OK." Sam obeyed and sat on the bedside. "What about Cassandra?"

"George just left the airport. He's going straight to your house to look after her."

Sam's brows meshed. "You asked him?"

"Yeah. As if he'd say no. That big hearted Texan loves Cassandra."

"I know. Thanks," she said wearily.

"You're welcome. Now lights out."

"Sit with me first," she added, "sir?"

Who was he to argue? Besides she was way smarter. His genius.

"Sorry about this stain," she fingered the dark patch on his blue BDU blouse. "And the mascara is supposed to be smear proof."

"Hey, one of the perks of being a brigadier general entails free base dry-cleaning." He took advantage of where she'd rested her warm palm and captured her wrist with his fingers.

"Our tax dollars at work." She looked down to where he held her hand. She didn't pull away.

"Which I don't utilize enough." He coughed.

"That I noticed." Her witty smile engaged his crinkled BDUs.

Jack settled their hands between their chests. "Getting sleepy?"

"No." She lied.

"Maybe if I sing. Doo. . ." he started up the scale.

"Please don't, sir?"

"Fine. But my 'Row, Row Row Your Boat' is to die for."

"So I've heard." She smiled through a long yawn.

"Your loss," he insisted. "Now, lay down."

"With all due respect no, sir."

"Excuse me?" He pulled a face. "Carter, why must you always have the last word with me?"

"I do not always. . ." Reality registered. "I do huh?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Since the first day we met."

"Well, I don't intend to overstep your authority."

"Who said anything about authority?" He grinned back.

An intimate look passed between them. Sam forced her attention on the bathroom door. He followed her gaze, sensing she was doing her best not to cave. If she did, she'd probably sleep the rest of the night.

"Let's leave sleeping dogs lie shall we?" He settled beside her. "No pun intended."

Sam opened her cute mouth than shut it. Quite a struggle considering. Jack inched closer and switched topics. "Stop worrying about Cass."

"I'm not. I know you've got her taken care of and I appreciate it."

"Hey, that's what family's about."

"We are family aren't we, sir?"

"Always," he said softly.

Sam barely nodded but remained upright staring at that door. Pig headed woman. Still, he sensed her relax against him. Glancing at her present distraction Jack cocked his head left then right. "Paint's peeling. I'll let Siler know."

"Already did. They'll scrap and repaint while I'm on leave for Dad's wake."

"Ah." Jack's calloused thumb traced her soft, warm palm. Her fingers tightened on his wrist. This felt good. But he should leave. Sam slipped her arm around his waist and pillowed her head on his shoulder. Or stay. Had she any idea how much her gesture of trust meant to him? It had become their unspoken means of communicating emotions that could never be publicly expressed. This was the second time today she'd been this intimate. Hope springs.

More self-assured, he urged her closer and reclaimed her hand. Sam nestled in. Oh, yeah, this was nice. This was safe. "How's Pete?" Doh!

"Don't know. I hope he's alright. I don't expect to see him anytime soon." She turned her tear blotched face toward him. "I-I broke off our engagement. It never should have happened."

"What should never have happened?" he'd actually mouthed a coherent five word sentence.

"Dating Pete was a gigantic blunder from day one. That's what I tried to tell you this afternoon."

"Yeah," Jack caressed her ribs, "About that." He had to come clean. "I'm sorry I acted like a blockhead. I knew why you came to the house. At least I'd hoped that I knew but I was—"

"Angry with me?"

"Yes. No. I was tongue-tied that . . ."

"It had taken me that long to realize I wasn't in love with Pete?"

"Stop that!" Jack pulled back and wagged a finger.

"Sorry."

Another trying moment before he got the words out. "Sam, I asked Kerry for lunch today to end things between us. But it didn't go down that way. She dropped me first."

"That I know." She gazed into his eyes. "She told me."

"Oh! How? I mean when?" Did his scarred brow twitch?

"Let's just say she's quite creative and had my sole attention."

"She's good." He admitted. "I mean she's a good operative." He cleared his throat.

Sam gave him latitude.

"Look, Carter, ya know I hate mile long explanations."

"Yes, sir."

He wind-milled his arms as if they'd summon the right words while Sam waited with unprecedented patience.

"Um, Kerry and I haven't engaged in the horizontal rumba in awhile." He avoided Sam's steadfast look.

"You shared a bed."

"Yeah, occasionally. And your point?"

"Sorry that was unfair."

"Ya think?"

"Yes. All the while I was with Pete you were alone."

"Let's not dwell." The dent between his eyes carved a canyon.

Emotionally tense, Sam held Jack's pained expression. "Carter, all those off world missions we slept beside each other and the base all-nighters we pulled together, did they mean squat to you?"

"Man, how can you even ask me that?" She snagged her upper lip and sniffed tears.

"Coz, I need to know."

"Of course they were important. I wanted to be with you anyway I could . . . back then."

"Back then," he said flatly. "Well that's a mouthful." He snorted.

"I-I don't understand."

"Then let me spell it out. Hell, Carter, I missed you—then and now," anger slithered through his baritone.

"You did--do?"

"Yeah, that so hard to believe?"

"But other than as Jonah and Thera we haven't had intercourse."

"Sex?" His jaw unhinged. "Carter, there's more to love than sex."

"I know that." She acknowledged blushing. "And I wish . . ." Regret flashed across her tearstained face before she stubbornly looked at the painted floor. Dang, she was shutting down. His fault not hers.

"I'm sorry. You're exhausted," he said quickly, "But give me a sec here, huh?"

Sam nodded but her concentration settled on the throw rung beneath her bare feet.

Jack scratched his lower back and made several long legged strides across her quarters. He wanted Sam to know the private man that few people knew. Long as he could recall he'd acquired the reputation of being a ladies' man. And until he became a general it wasn't uncommon to flirt with the female gender. But not until Kerry Johnson had he dated a base employee. Mixing work with pleasure was out of Jack's comfort zone.

Just like with his ex-wife, Sara, Jack was a one woman guy, a healthy heterosexual male with a preference for intellectual, long legged, full-breasted women, preferably natural blondes. Jack's lustful gaze indulged Sam's perfect twins. Oy! Caught in the act, he met her keen unsmiling gaze and gulped. She hadn't deck him—yet.

Jack unconsciously licked his lips. "As great as the sex between Jonah and Thera was, and believe me it was sun exploding amazing." He watched color blot her cheeks and felt a twinge of masculine pride. "What you and I share as friends is better than ten minutes of intense aerobics."

Sam's blue eyes turned saucer size. "Seven," she corrected. "According to the American Institute of Sexual Development the average time a couple actually spends. . ."

"More than I want to know. I mean, were Jonah still in a relationship with Thera he'd want her 24/7."

Sam's eyes crinkled with humor.

Jack's throat parched. "Wha-at I'm saying here, is that you and I—Jack and Sam, watched each other sexes-um I mean sixes."

A titter warmed Sam's lips. Jack indulged her with a short smile but stayed the course for fear he'd never have the courage again to share his feelings. "We believed and trusted in each other. Hell, Carter, I loved you!"

"Wow!"Sam looked up.

"I won't deny there was chemistry between Agent Johnson and myself. But after releasing certain pent-up physical urges, I grew content to just sleep with her because I remained empty inside—lonely for companionship, your companionship, Carter."

"Sir, I—"

"No. If I don't get this off of my chest, it won't happen."

'Okay." She blinked fresh tears.

"None of this is your fault, okay? You'd ever right to be happy and to be with someone-else. I never faulted you for that. Still don't."

"But, we made each other a promise and I broke—."

"It takes two to tango, Carter." He hunkered down and looked her square in the eyes. "What I felt for you—being with you at any cost was better than not having you at all. When you were lost on the Prometheus I vowed that if God returned you safely I'd leave the SGC and we'd go fishing. But the galaxy went to Netu. Neither of us could or would leave SG-1. And you grew more distant."

"Yeah about that," Sam sighed. "I had these hallucinations and—"

"Nu-ah." He held up a hand as he shook his head.

"Yes, sir." She smiled, wringing her hands. Jack fought the urge to still them, to hold her. He shoved to his feet, sat beside her then drew a ballpoint pen from his front jacket pocket and started clicking.

Sam covered his exercising digits and took the abused pen. Jack stared into her accepting countenance. No one had a calming effect on him like Carter did.

"You were saying?" she encouraged, setting the pen between them.

"That morning you hummed on the elevator?"

"Yes." Ruby streaks rushed up Sam's neck and cheekbones. "Not one of our better moments."

"For me either. I had one heck of a reality check that you needed what I couldn't give you then—or possibly now. Yet, I hoped that if you had a toss with someone for awhile, we'd later reconnect."

"Toss! You were okay about me seeing someone else."

"Hardly. The idea drove me wacko. But I dealt. Hell, even Daniel and Teal'c told me that by keeping silent I'd lose you. But I stubbornly stayed delusional until you accepted Pete's proposal. Seeing that diamond ring," Jack blew past his lips. He could still hear the ring box snapping shut beneath his fingers.

Sam touched his face. "I wanted you stop me," she whispered.

Jack flinched at her intimate touch. "And I figured that you had what you wanted. My nights got longer. I met Kerry and things went further than planned—" He retrieved the pen up and clicked.

"You don't need to explain, sir, and you've every right to be pissed."

"I'm not pissed." He dragged a hand through his military cut. "Just confused about," he gestured between them, "Us. Throw me a bone, wilya. What's happening here?"

"Not sure." She lifted a shoulder. "But I'm sorry about you and Kerry breaking up."

"Stop the violins. I wasn't in love with Kerry and she walked before she got in deeper. A wise woman."

Sam starred unblinkingly.

"Apparently I have issues, especially one huge one." He expanded his arms for emphasis, while nodding in her direction.

"Oh!" Sam's eyes went moon-wide with understanding.

"You just figured that out?" He snorted. "Geez, Carter, if not for Johnson's doggedly pursuit I'd be dubbed monk of the SGC."

"And until I dated Pete, rumors of 'Sister Sam' were true."

"That memo I got. You must admit 'Sister Sam' has a heavenly ringtone." He winked.

"Same could be said about Brother Jack."

"Ah. The SGC grapevine is sick as ever."

They smiled. Sam's fingertips brushed his tensed jaw but this time he didn't jerk back. "If it's any solace Pete and I haven't been intimate since you went Ancient. I just couldn't. . ." she looked away. "Hypothetically, I rationalized he'd drop me if we weren't sleeping together. He didn't. Pete really loves me and that made it harder to break it off. After the engagement he continued to respect my decision to wait until our wedding night."

"Funny, I figured that by cutting Kerry off she'd head for greener younger pastures. You can't imagine how many nights I stayed on base to avoid . . ."

"Kerry told me. She also told me to go fishing."

"She did?"

"Yeah sure yabetcha." Sam's bluish gray eyes sparked with mischief.

"Sweet. Carter, just so I'm not further confused. Did we just take us out of the room?"

"Yes, sir. That's if it's not too late?" The ball was in his court.

"Nope." His dimples tucked deep along his lean mouth. "Samantha," he engaged her expectant look. "I never stopped being in love with you. Always."

"You said _always_ again." Sam snatched the pen and tossed it over his shoulder.

"I did huh? From here on I'll _always_ put you first. Crap, we've lost eight years."

"Don't!" Sam reprimanded. "We can't undo the past. If we hadn't put earth first we might not be having this conversation."

"Another reason I adore, you, Doctor Samantha Carter, rational extraordinaire." He huffed in irritation, not with her, but himself.

"Hardly. You've put me first more times than I can count. But you have to believe that as much as I wanted-want you I want this too." She gestured at the white-washed walls of her quarters.

"Hey, I love the Air Force as much as the next guy." He defended.

"And you would retire in a heartbeat if I asked."

"Well there's that. And your point?" Jack tipped a calloused palm at her.

"That I want what normal couples have; careers, homes and families, even a dog."

"A dog you say?" he inserted with a boyish smile. "Any size preference?"

"Jack, I'm serious."

"Me too." He frowned. "And let's not forget kids. Three would be nice."

Sam balked.

"I'm just saying," he pouted. "But will settle for one." He held up a finger.

More Carter tears. "Man oh man, Jack, I want kids too, but it's just not that simple."

"Why?"

"Because I fooled myself into thinking I could be normal, have it all, and still keep the biggest secret of the universe."

"For the record, Carter, we are normal."

"Oh, pleeeze," she made an exasperating girlish sound that was so not Colonel Carter. "What's norm about walking through the Stargate and traveling through an Ancient wormhole to distant galaxies, fighting alien foes, and discovering new technology to save mankind? When I think about everything that we've sacrificed this-us seems lame."

"Hey, don't go squirrely on me. I've first dibs on the half-empty glass theory. And for what it's worth I think this is highly normal for folks like us."

"Folks like us," she mimicked his tone and looked hopeful.

"Yeah. Despite his police background and security clearance, Shanahan would never appreciate or understand what you do, what we do. Name one person outside this program knows how many times you've saved the world?"

"_We_ saved the world." She wagged a slim finger. "Not to mention how many times you've died."

"Whatever." He smiled unassumingly, "Apparently Teal'c keeps score."

"Sure does." She grinned then turned staid. "Like the rest of you, I can't have a long term relationship with someone from outside the SGC."

Jack wanted to shout yes, but the concentration on Sam's face said she was thinking and that was dangerous.

"Kerry is an insider, so why didn't it work?" She looked up at him for an honest answer.

"My heart wasn't in it, Sam. And quite honestly neither was hers. I was a mountain to be conquer. She scaled it and found the summit wasn't that big of a deal."

"She dated you for career advancement?" Sam stared.

"I think that's how it started and I'm not proud that I let her. We used each other. End of story." He shrugged, then lifted his chin her way. "And Pete?"

"The result of a blind date through Mark. Pete pursued me with a romantic vengeance and I liked feeling the whole 'Princess Bride scenario.'

"Ah, I can see you as feisty Princess Buttercup," Jack said with a twisted smile. "But Lanternjaw as Westley, nah. Although, Prince Humperdink now there's a match." He snorted a laugh.

Sam rose to the defense of her former boyfriend. "You've ever right not to like Pete but, he's a good, decent man and he loves me."

"Oh!" Jack's cockiness flushed down the crapper.

"Just one problem, sir. I'm not in love with Pete."

"Ah." Yes and he scores! Jack hands wouldn't stop moving. He wanted to touch Sam, but forced his digits down to his lap. "I'm sorry about the mess, Carter." Crap, he sounded like a broken record, but he felt bad anytime someone, even Pete Shanahan didn't get the prize.

"Pete knows how I feel about you." She eased closer and touched his forearm. "Dad knew. He tried to tell me so many times," she dabbed her nose with her shirt sleeve. "I never told him that he was right." Her chin trembled, tears tumbled.

"Sam, We both made mistakes. But believe me that from here on, I'll do whatever it takes for us to be more than wannabe lovers."

"Wow!" Sam Carter's puffy blue eyes watered more, her beautiful lips quivered.

"That's it?" His face folded. "I can handle wow as long as it's a good wow. . . "

"A good wow." She brought his hands back to her cheeks and sighed. "I'm sorry I gave up on us."

"Hush." He sifted fingers through her soft golden hair. "We're mule heads, Carter. I gave up too. And there's nothing wrong with wanting normal. It's just we aren't." He urged her into his arms and she succumbed. He'd waited so long for this moment that he wasn't sure it was real. "Let's face it, I've got a wacko Ancient gene and you've got the memories of a two thousand year-old Tok'ra snake. What's normal or ordinary about that, aye?"

"You make a good argument, General O'Neill."

"I do. Now before we discuss our future we should revisit the past."

Sam pulled away, insecurity stamped on her crinkled brow. "Sir?"

"Jack," he insisted. "No more formalities when we're alone—agreed?"

Sam mouthed OK. "But I'd rather not do anymore road trips down memory lane. I've been doing that all day. My head hurts."

"Mine too. But this is important."

"How past?" she suspiciously asked.

"Way, way, way back, Captain."

"Cap-tain?" Sam swallowed.

"Yeah. It's actually funny." His dimples tucked deep.

Sam frowned.

"Or not." Jack winced, got to his feet and pulled out the document from his pocket. "You're probably going to get royally pissed, but there was nothing we could have done to change the situation. Apparently, marriages on P3X-595 can only be revoked by the death of one or the other spouse."

"Oh?" Sam's ivory complexion took on more color.

"Remember our second mission, the one where we got sicker than dogs drinking that apple cider gunk and you did a hot little strip tease?"

Sam gasped.

Jack looked at the ceiling tiles. Um, was that a water stain?

"I try not to relive the horrific dance number."

"Odd, it's one of my fondest memories." He winked.

Sam's lips thinned and her attention settled on the paper in his hand. "Tap dancing aside, I was out to impress upon my new CO that I wanted to be one of the guys, and how valuable I was to his team. I got snookered on a glass of juice and vomited all over your boots."

"Hey, we got both got tanked, Sam. On-the-spot puke party. Something I've had my share of today. So here's the whole enchilada." He handed her the yellowed parchment. "Just remember that striking a commanding officer is a court martial offense and that I've got a straw jaw."

"Warning dually noted, General." Sam accepted the fragile parchment.

"I'm just saying." Jack squinted at her playful response that he sensed was about take a complete turnabout.

Sam unfolded the crude illustration of a dark haired man and a woman with short yellow hair drinking from a decorative cup. In the next picture they were hurling on each other. The third sketch showed the couple in a horizontal position. Rows of symbols surrounded the drawings and two familiar signatures were scrolled at the bottom of the document.

"Oh man, these looks like our signatures. I--I don't understand." Sam balked.

"You're way smarter than me." He pointed at the paper. "But if ya need more details Daniel's translation's on the backside." He made a flipping gesture.

She turned the document over and scanned Daniel's scrawl. "Holy Hannah! You mean you and I are…"

"Married, hitched, stitched at the hips unto death do us part. According to their bizarre beliefs if a couple drinks the juice of fermented apples and gets sick together, they have been chosen by the Star Keeper and mated for life. Seems to happen to one out of every five couples in that tribe. The getting sick together part I mean."

"That's just sick." Any sign of life had drained from Sam's face.

"It's also their marital law. We were so bombed that we signed on the crooked line. Neither Daniel nor Teal'c could stop us. Only Teal'c willingly signed as a witness. Daniel refused, stating we'd been drugged and coerced and we'd kill him in the morning."

"Teal'c signed?" Sam's pretty mouth dropped ajar.

"Yeah. He's accustomed to barbaric customs. That's why he refused to sit with any of the single women. Besides, he and Daniel were each married at the time."

"Why didn't Teal'c stop us?"

"Because he was not acquainted with the Air Force zero tolerance frat rules and that romance hearted oaf has believed that since our first encounter, that you and I were destined to become lovers for all eternity. Apparently, he had us pegged the first time he saw us interacting. He's more a matchmaker than Daniel ever was." Jack rambled, so did his hands. "And not that Daniel didn't do his part, like take your clothes and sleeping bag."

"Wow! So when I woke up in yours—" Sam shot to her feet.

"Now, Sam." He backed off a few feet. "I swear to Almighty God nothing happened. Soon as I found you naked in my arms I checked to see if there was any physical, umm, spillage." He winced.

"Spillage?" Sam gasped.

"Evidence," he corrected. "As intertwined as we were it didn't appear that we'd," he coughed, "Consummated anything."

Sam's cheeks turned the shade of ripe cherries. Jack dragged a finger along his tee's collar. "Although according to the villagers we did our best to accomplish that critical act." He left out, how she had passionately impaled herself upon him while he'd carried her into the tent. So, technically, yeah they'd physically joined—consummated their marriage union. But if only he recalled that fact they weren't officially married, right? How many years had he been telling himself that whooper?

"Okay then." Sam bobbed her head and wiggled her bare toes.

"Is that an OK of relief or regret?" He dipped his head to see her face.

"Yes. No. I don't know." Higher color splashed across her cheekbones and nose. Here it comes. Jack took a backward stride and braced for the storm. "I remember . . . explosive sexual contact."

"Explosive you say?"

"Yes. You made me . . . I mean, I climaxed so many times . . . You were amazing!" She glanced up, but her eyelashes shielded her expression.

"I was?" He grinned with surprise.

"I thought it was just a dream. One of many I've had over the years. Seriously, no one can actually be that—."

"What?" Jack hurried to her. Sam met his lustful expression and turned the tables.

"Are you telling me that all these years we've been theoretically married and you never told me?"

"Um, theoretically is a good idiom."

"Jack!"

"Samantha, don't get your panties in a knot."

"It's your neck I'd like to knot!"

"Oy! General Hammond thought it was best that we let those intergalactic niceties drift off into the perpetual sunset so to speak." He made a clumsy flying gesture. "Besides, Daniel worked his ass off to get our marriage annulled. True you weren't informed, but his negotiating skills with the villagers almost got him castrated."

"Of all the stupid, insensitive, self-centered—"

"Hey, Daniel was trying to help."

"Not Daniel. You, Jack O'Neill!"

"That I get. But it's not as if the marriage was legally binding on earth . . . at that time." He gulped.

"Was?"

"Past tense." He walked and talked with his hands. "You recall that Daniel wanted his marriage to Sha're recognized on earth. Well, a few years later the president put into the United States bylaws that intergalactic alien marriages are considered legal yada, yada."

"I was present." Sam got in his face and jabbed her fingers against his spleen.

Jack back peddled into the wall. "Before you resort to violence I admit I should have told you. But if that news had gotten into the wrong hands primarily Senator Kinsey's, he would have disbanded SG-1 like that." He snapped his fingers. "And we wouldn't be able to do our jobs. Who knows how that would have affected our victory over the Goa'uld or if we'd have found the lost city of Atlantis and—"

"Considering you said we didn't consummate the vows we could have annulled the marriage." Her blues shimmered with suspicion.

"Good point! That's why you're the genius beauty and I'm the brainless brawn."

"Cut the crap, Jack."

He balked.

"I mean, sir." She covered herself.

"No no, keep going. I deserve this."

"Holy Hannah!"

"Although, I did what I did to cover your adorable ass—theoretically speaking." Jack cleared his throat and tensed for incoming.

Sam pulled back just enough to give him false security.

"You, Jonathan James O'Neill, are one of the most intelligent people in the galaxy. True, you tend to see things in a simpler light than most geniuses and that gives you an edge."

"I do?"

She slugged his right shoulder. "So, what's the real reason you didn't tell me about our marriage?"

"What's the real reason you didn't tell me you remembered?" He donned his gotcha look.

"I asked first."

"Coz I'm a self-centered asshole. And I spent many a sleepless night on account of that butt pain." He withheld how he'd also conjured a hundred different ways to make love to her.

"Me too."

"You don't say?" His brows hiked into his hairline.

"I knew what had happened, but decided that as long as you or General Hammond didn't address the matter I wouldn't either."

"Then you knew that we uh. . ?" Jack made the suggestive motion with his hands.

"I suspected."

"Wait? Let me do the math." He counted on his fingers and his face twitched with concentration. "For seven years and ten months you never asked?"

"No."

"But you're mad at me?"

"Yes."

"And I'm groveling why?"

"Because you're in love with me." She smiled.

"That works." His dimples tucked deep along his mouth.

"But that doesn't let you off the hook, Mr. O'Neill."

"Mr. O'Neill ya say." His chest puffed out. "Goes well with Mrs. O'Neill doncha think?"

"Has a nice ring. But I'd have to maintain the title of Colonel Carter on duty."

"I can work with that." Jack pulled her to him and gazed passionately into her sparkling eyes, bloodshot as they were.

"Good." She nibbled her lower lip. "So I wasn't dreaming?"

"Nope. I was hot!" He winked.

She snorted.

"And you were. . ."

"What?" She waggled her brows.

"Please understand this is meant as the sincerest compliment."

"Jack?" Her fingers trailed down his chest, the contact causing a massive response below the belt.

"And insatiable vixen. A hussy."

"Really?"

"Sam, I never imagined. I relived that night for years. Still do."

"Holy!" She blushed against his shirt.

"There was nothing holy about that. . ."

Sam slugged his arm.

"Ouch! I'm just saying." He chuckled. "Sam, you were an insatiable handful."

She tilted her head and gazed below his waist. "So were you."

"Oy! Is it warm in here?" He eased her gently but firmly to arms length.

Sam gave a reluctant nod.

Jack turned and readjusted himself.

Her next question finished the cooling down process. "What if I had married Pete?"

"Would not have happened." He turned back.

"How do you know?"

"Because Daniel intended to wave the alien marriage certificate in your face before you bought flowers."

"Daniel's gone."

"Yeah, his timing sucks." He sighed at her befuddled look. "But I was working on plan B."

"So all panned out, huh?" she shrewdly glared.

"Not my plan. If Shanahan made you happy that's what I wanted for you."

"You would have let me marry him?"

"Ah, but you didn't." Jack insisted.

"Not the point." She crossed her arms.

"You want to know if I'd have crashed the ceremony and screamed, 'don't marry that bonehead, Carter, coz you're marry to this one?'"

"Has potential." She nodded.

"Well, I would have stopped the wedding. Just that it took me this long to find our wedding certificate." He pointed at the document on her bed. "Daniel had hidden it all these years so that I couldn't destroy the blasted thing."

"But you didn't . . . destroy it." She lifted the paper off the bed and skimmed the contents.

"Never planned too," he gave a sheepish look.

"How'd you find it?"

"Help from an Ancient buddy."

"Daniel?"

"Well that's to be determined." He rolled his shoulders.

"At least you weren't visited by a future child."

"Grace?"

"How'd you?" She looked stunned.

"Long story. We'll have to share bullet points."

"Guess so." Her eyes held a mischievous gleam that made him nervous.

"Is that a look of forgiveness or are you contemplating how to torture me?"

"A bit of both, but I suspect the torture would be more pleasure than pain." Without warning Sam rubbed her forehead and then buckled.

"Carter!" Jack scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. "Let's put the rest of this closet conversation on hold."

"I'm fine." She weakly pushed at him.

"Not." He laid her down and pulled the blanket up over her robed body.

Sam yawned and shut her eyes. "But I didn't zat you."

Smiling, Jack settled beside her and traced the back of his hand along her warm right cheek. "There's a lot I'd like you to do to me, Carter, but not now. If I—we need you for anything I'll send someone to fetch you." He clicked off the bedside lamp, leaving the faint glow of the security lights to outline their features.

"Don't leave?"

"Wild horses . . ." He lightly kissed her blonde head and gestured to leave.

Sam captured his face with possessive fingers. Her mouth tilted upward until their lips danced together. Jack should resist, but he'd been doing that too fricking long. Sam looked alluringly into his questioning eyes, her heart his for the taking.

"I love you," he whispered against her moist parted bow.

"I know." She smiled softly, hooking her arms around his neck pulling him closer.

"We're not supposed to cross this bridge yet, Colonel." his lisp accentuated his failing willpower.

Sam merely nodded.

"Then you know what comes next?" he warned.

"Yep, my CO is about to fraternize with his insubordinate, and she's going to fraternize back." Sam winked.

"That's why you're a national treasure, Carter." Jack's left dimple tucked deep into a lustful smirk.

"With all due respect, shut up and kiss me, sir."

"Excellent!"

Their kiss wasn't hesitant or flirtatious, but intimately fired by years of restrained passion and indefinable love, yearning and promise. Jack's fingers gripped Sam's slender shoulders and he angled his battle hardened body to fuse with her soft willing form. Despite the layers of his BDU's and her cotton robe, specific body parts aligned like skin inside a leather glove.

Sam's body and brain turned to pulp. She swore she heard Judy Garland singing, 'Some Where over the Rainbow.' Man, she had needed and wanted this man for long that she feared that like Dorothy when she opened her eyes, she'd find herself alone.

"Samantha," Jack murmured as he savored the pliant skin of her throat with gentle nibbles.

Sam whimpered delight which further fueled his desire for her. In their feasting, the sash of her robe unwound; although, Jack's nimble fingers helped things along. He slid the palm of a hand across her bare shoulders to the arch of her lower back. Sam sighed into his thirsting mouth and their tongues dueled for conquest.

Sam surrendered.

Joy-filled tears bathed her cheeks. Jack felt the wet heat and pulled away, confusion and concern crinkling his sable brown eyes. "I'm sorry," he captured a hot tear with his blunt thumb and then drew her robe back into place. "This is too soon, I shouldn't have . . ." His rugged features tensed as he dragged his tongue over his lips tasting her sweetness.

"No." Sam protested, sniffing back tears. "I'm happy, Jack. I want you. Just overwhelmed that everything I ever wanted is right here, always has been, and that some thing is you, Jack." Her chin jutted as she caressed his whisker rough jaw and urged him back to her. Jack complied, but his licentious gaze forced into discipline mode and didn't drop below her neck.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere, Sam nor are you. We're in this together, okay?"

"Yes, sir. But what about the IOA."

"Screw those butt heads." He shifted on the bed and directed her to lie down.

"But when they learn we've been married all these years they'll court martial us. Worse, they'll shut down the SGC and Atlantis."

"Not going to happen. Political correctness has never been my strong suit. Rest assured that it's not over until the skinny woman sings, even if it's off key."

"But?"

"Na. . . ah." He pressed his fingertips flatly against her protests. "Sam, you trust me as your CO right?"

She nodded.

"Sweet. Now trust me as your husband."

"Okay." She sighed and worked her lower lip.

"Sam, you lost your father today. I don't think the finality of his death has hit you, but when it does I'm here, always. Now shut those tired, blue eyes. That's an order, Colonel."

Sam held his stubborn expression that for once, was no match for her own. Finding no leeway, she gave into him with a weary sigh and cuddled beneath the blanket that he tucked around her. She reached above the covers and claimed his large left hand. Their fingers intertwined and held fast. Within seconds she was snoring and not too quietly. Cool.

"That's my girl," he whispered and settled atop the bed beside her. When Sam turned into him, Jack rained soft kisses across her puffy eyelids, red nose, cheeks. His lips hoovered over the parted bow of her mouth. To his delight she breathed into him. Jack possessively claimed her. He was in tune to everything about his wife. From her herbal essence shampoo and body lotion to her Tok'ra invaded DNA Samantha Carter was the missing link to Jack O'Neill.

He never wanted to be far from this amazing woman, from her kissable mouth, her brilliant mind, crossword puzzles, or her hot body that was would soon be his forever. Jack remained in stupid awe that she ever had, then let alone now, loved him. Fatigue caught up him unaware and he yawned. He'd take a five minute catnap and—

The off-world activation alarm shrilled through the base.

Sam's eyes shot open and she bolted upright, knocking Jack to the hard floor.

"Sorry!" She focused on her surroundings and the man scrambling for a handhold on the bedding.

"Oh, fer cryin'outloud, can't we ever get a break?" On his sore knees, Jack maneuvered to his feet and met her blurry troubled expression. "This better be good news, like Teal'c or Bra'tac. . ."

"Or Daniel," With renewed energy Sam tossed off the coverlet and swung her shapely bare legs over the bedside. Jack's libido kicked to attention. Sam tightened the robe's sash that emphasized the valley of the twins.

Oy!

She caught his shameless glint and reiterated. "It could be Daniel at the gate, sir."

"Huh, oh, there's that." Clearly the stimulation in his wife's face hadn't a thing to do with what just happened between them. Some things would never change, and that was okay. Smiling, he snatched her uniform off the bed post and tossed it into her arms. Before she could speak Sam's phone rang.

Jack picked up the receiver and barked, "Walter."

"General?" Harriman coughed. "I-I thought I'd dialed Colonel Carter's quarters."

"You did." A smile twitched Jack's lips.

Sam smothered a giggle.

"Um, well, sir, we received Teal'c's G.D.O."

"Excellent! I'm—we're on our way." He pocketed their marriage certificate with plans to seal the license inside the explosive and fire proofed wall safe in his office. Oddly Sam hadn't budged, her clothes clutched in her arms, she stared right through him. "Carter?" He concluded she was in no shape to work.

"Sir?" her voice quivered as she returned to the land of the living.

Jack closed the distance and caressed her grief drawn face and smoothed her tangled hair. "You stay put."

"No! It's just that I realized we can't keep doing this. . ."

"No honeymoon, huh?" He winced.

"We can't stay in the same chain of command." She leaned into him like a limp doll.

"No, we can't." Jack trailed his fingers through her hair, then cradled her chin and gazed into her long lashed eyes. "Ya know, I collected those IOU's for such a day as this—for us. You OK with that?" His old insecurities resurfaced.

Sam pushed to her tiptoes and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "Only if you're OK with that?"

"Ah." Jack gulped as heat shifted due south. "I can get used to anything as long as I can come home to you, Dorothy."

"Me too, Scarecrow." She shimmied against him. "Oh man, that's not your sidearm!" She giggled.

"Nope." Jack tilted his head for a kiss to seal their deal. Warm lips brushed with expectation.

"General O'Neill, Colonel Carter, please report!" Walter insisted over the intercom.

"That man needs a hobby," Jack muttered as he veered from her kissable mouth.

"So do you." Sam snorted.

"Got one." He winked suggestively taking a few backward limps toward the door. Dang knees. He shook out the kinks. When she failed to respond he looked back at her.

Sam had yet to move.

"Well, don't just stand there, Carter." Jack's hand turned the door's latch. "Hell, we've got a planet to save!"

Sam jumped to attention. "Yes, sir!" she answered in her confident military bravado.

"Ten spot says I'll beat you to the Control Room," he taunted smugly.

"In your dreams, sir." She scoffed.

Lips parted with an intimate off-colored retort Jack looked over his shoulder. Sam's cotton robe fluttered to the floor as her long-legged sensuous figure entered the bathroom. That sight alone was worth the bet.

Revisiting his hundred different ways to make wild passionate love to Samantha Carter-O'Neill spurred Jack to get a grip. "Patience, ol' man, patience." He donned a cocky expression, opened her door, peered down the corridor and then hobbled-raced for the nearest elevator.

After all. . .it was ten bucks!


End file.
